Diary of an Anime Lived: Moshidora and The Fine Fight
You know, I had several highlights lined up to talk about this week. However, at this time I’m going to get a bit personal with you and focus on one scene. I’ve never written a post for the Diary of an Anime Lived project, so this is my first crack at an entry. I feel like Moshidora failed in several respects, but it did one thing remarkably well. You could say it even knocked it out of the park. You can see this particular scene coming from a mile away, but if you really wish to avoid spoilers, then I suggest you finish episode 9 of Moshidora before continuing.
Before we get to it, you need to know a bit of backstory. In the middle of 2008, round abouts August, my father was diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer. The surgery succeeded. Yet, it was too late. The next scan showed what we feared most. The cancer metastasized and spread to his liver. The last few years have been a rollercoaster of emotional stresses. He had chemotherapy treatments over a span of two years’ time. They left him physically exhausted and emotionally drained. He would often recover enough of his strength just in time for another round of chemicals to invade his body. After his third surgery, we were hoping they had excised it completely. About two weeks ago, he had his fourth surgery. No such luck, I suppose.
Yuuki’s last moments will easily reside in the top emotional scenes of the entire year for me. Yes, the scene is meant to pull on your heartstrings, but I don’t think you can fully appreciate it until you’ve been there yourself. You have to sit there and watch someone struggle for his life for years on end. Every time you go to the doctor’s office you hope for a clean bill of health. Sometimes, you’ll get it, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Other times… there might be preparations for yet another surgery.
It’s a hard life. There’s a lot of pain and misery and tears. Perhaps I’m fortunate. So far, my father has survived. But in the back of my mind, I know there’s a chance. A chance that no matter what happens, it just won’t be enough. The specter of death is ever looming. If the cancer ever shows up in his lungs, it will be terminal. He might live a year, he might live ten, but it will kill him eventually.
Yuuki fought her fate fiercely. She survived a whole nine months past the doctor’s predictions. She still fell short. Was it worth the struggle? All you have to do is watch the scene. Every member of the squad stands at her deathbed, and they all grieve in their own way. Some have streams of tears rushing down their cheeks. Others try to keep up a strong front, but you can still read their emotions through the sniffling and shaking. She certainly touched the lives of the team she loved.
Perhaps more importantly, Yuuki guided Minami toward becoming a stronger person. Minami became a manager because of her friend, and a damn good one. She strengthened the entire school with the baseball team as a central point. By the end, Minami has also rekindled of her love for the game. Yuuki was a fictional character, but she accomplished more in a year than many people in the real world might do in a lifetime. She lived vicariously from her hospital bed, and in the process affected hundreds of people. Watching the series culminate to this point reminded me of a particular scripture:
I have fought the fine fight, I have run the course to the finish, I have observed the faith. – 2 Tim 4:7 NWT
Without a doubt, Yuuki fought a fine fight. She could die satisfied. I cried like a fucking baby. I’m crying as I write this post. Judge it how you will. I have a good idea of how Minami felt. How Yuuki’s mother felt. How the team felt. I know the difficulties they must have gone through, even though they may not have shown those moments from years past.
Take away at least one lesson from it. Life is fleeting. Live a good life. Make things happen. You never know what lives you’ll touch until you try. You never know what a difference it might make, for yourself or for others, even after you’re gone. My father has similarly left a good life. He’s well-respected by those who know him. Even when he’s weak, he still goes out of his way to help others. He gives even when he has nothing to give. I know he’ll be dearly missed, should it ever come to that point. I honestly don’t know how he manages to keep it together as well as he does. I envy that ability.
But if you want to be ambitious and learn two things, the second is as follows. Look at your family history. If there’s a history of colon cancer and you have the means to do it, get yourself checked. The cancer in my family is hereditary. After observing my father’s siblings, the doctors have classified it as aggressive. I’m supposed to be checked when I turn 25. The procedure might sound a bit embarrassing, but the physicians are trained to do it. It might save your life. Don’t put yourself or your loved ones through what I and my family have suffered. Please. Get checked.
