In this moment, he’s thinking of his classmate — and soon-to-be significant other — Rihito Sajou. The band moves around him, but he’s lost in his own world, as shown by isolating his moving fingers in a panel and later, his still body in a full frame. Paneling is used a few times in Doukyuusei, always to display heightened emotion or to draw attention to the feelings of a specific character. It reminded me of the currently-airing series Scum’s Wish, which uses paneling as its primary visual technique.
When I reached my senior year of high school on our track team, the three previous years of hard work, sweat, and vomit finally gelled into something that resembled a slightly above-average distance runner. Throughout these years, there was a runner from a rival school whose name was murmured amongst my teammates like a benediction or curse, depending on what they wished to express. Rumors had her training with U.S.A. Track and Field, and as our seniors prepared to pass the torch, they warned of her prowess and skill. This led to her constant presence in our minds, where the few souls talented enough to make it onto the varsity team – placing them next to her on the starting line – were immediately grilled following their races. I knew the exact meet, Reading versus Lexington, when we too would share a start time.
Crying, in North American professional sports, is mostly reserved for the winners. Athletes cry when they’re emotionally overwhelmed at a win, while the losing participants quickly depart, stoicism etched into their faces until they exit the public eye. In order to appear strong – particularly if one is an athlete in the spotlight, regardless of skill level – one must hide their emotions following a loss, as to not appear weak.
I personally disagree with the idea of crying equaling weakness, as crying is a good indicator of just how much one cares about what they are doing.
Often neglected when speaking of an animated sports series – or anime in general, for that matter – is the use of sound. Not the soundtrack itself, or the actual sound effects, but the use of them within the specific narrative of a series, in tandem with the visuals.
In episode three of Ping Pong: The Animation, Eriko Kimura turns in one of the more impressive pieces of sound direction that both supports and amplifies Masaaki Yuasa’s visuals and Taiyo Matsumoto’s story. The moment is Smile’s coming-out party.