Ping Pong Volume 2 Review

Story & Art: Taiyo Matsumoto
Translation & English Adaptation: Michael Arias
Touch-up Art & Lettering: Deron Bennett
Cover & Interior Design: Adam Grano
Editor: Mike Montessa

The Dragon vs The Hero from Planet Ping Pong

I have to be completely upfront right now. It's going to take everything out of me to try and do this justice, but I have just made my way to my computer to type this out, a mere 5 minutes after reading 529 pages of absolute perfection. Ping Pong is incredibly dear to my heart, and if you read my review of Volume 1, you should already know that I hold the anime in high regard, and that the manga has gone above and beyond with regards to meeting my own expectations as a source material. That aside, goodness gracious. For me, there is something absolutely thrilling about comics, and the art of storyboard. Taiyo Matsumoto has some of the most incredible paneling I've ever laid eyes on--succinct and sweet, evocative and harrowing--capable of drawing your eyes from page to the next page only to stop you in your tracks, breathless with wonder. His action scenes are not even that particularly unique. You can easily imagine two concurrent parallel lines depicting the path of a ping pong ball, but it's the poses the athletes take--the panel-to-panel construction where we see the implication of movement--which allows the characters to leap from page directly into our imagination. He wields the skill it takes to weave every aspect of the page, and how it's constructed, and properly lead your eyes, then instinctively understand what is happening at all times. Whether he uses thin lines for cross hatching, or deep blacks for inking shadows, there is a precision in how exactly Matsumoto depicts his characters and the expressions they wear. This volume includes an interview with Yasuki Hori, now Editor-in-Chief at Big Comic Original, and former editor for Taiyo Matsumoto and Ping Pong itself until partway through serialization. On page 515, he says:

"These days, Taiyo is highly regarded on the whole, but back then "stylish, but far from the mainstream" was the general opinion of his work. As for me, I was of the mind that "Interesting and cool are the only criteria that count, so as long as it's good, who gives a crap if it's mainstream!" But at the same time, I also found myself saying, "Yeah, but look, his works are basically orthodox in structure, right?" And from there, "So how about for his next project we give him something fitted out with all those mainstream trappings!" Thus the stage was set."

This critical information confirms to me that Ping Pong is the perfect entry point for readers who aren't used to Matsumoto's work. For the most part, the most unfamiliar thing to get used to would be his art style, but everything else is completely in touch with the taste of the common people. Sometimes, when it comes to recommending Matsumoto's manga to other folks, I feel like some rando on the internet trying to get someone to watch an eternally long Shonen Jump anime, and going "Trust me, it gets really good after x episodes and you get used to the funky art style!" as if promises of Stockholm syndrome ever convinced an anime fan. But once you develop a taste for more "out-there" art, Matsumoto's in particular really does feel refreshing. There are many times characters get close ups with unflattering angles, or look like they have lazy eyes. There's a freedom inherent within that kind of depiction, because no one and no thing is supposed to be perfect. Backgrounds are hand drawn and have the same amount of bumps and squiggles as peoples' silhouettes. That these characters don't look like "anime" character designs works heavily in the series' favor, because Matsumoto's brand of humanism seeps in to fill the cracks of their bumpy line-work and make only the most rounded of characters you'll ever experience. It's the same effect someone gets from Satoshi Kon's work.

On a scale of 1 to FREEZING, how much do you appreciate Sakuma?

 When it comes to character development, everyone continues to blossom into their own person, self-actualizing through their introspection on their relationship to the actual sport of table tennis. Peco's loss is the immediate first thread we see, and it ties beautifully with Sakuma's cynical acceptance of his lack of talent, as he's the one to force Peco to realize the truth of his circumstances. Peco lost to Sakuma, who lost to Smile. But Peco never put in a fraction of the effort that Sakuma did. If someone with no talent can beat the one who was once proclaimed to be the Hero, what does it mean when the Hero himself kicks himself into gear? Hori's interview in the extras acknowledges that both Smile and Peco are geniuses at the sport, but with completely different literary paths. Smile is the kind of genius who is afraid of his own strength, and takes a passive role because of it. Peco's genius blooms in a way that overwhelms everyone around him, and without any fear, goes on to accept his strength with the self-appointed role of Smile's Hero. By defeating Smile, Peco reclaims his strength, and stops Smile from self-destructing under the weight of his own talent, like Butterfly Joe once did. Smile doesn't have ambition, and that's what makes his perception of himself fascinating. Sakuma has ambition but no talent. Peco has ambition and the talent Sakuma needed. These three boys started and continued playing table tennis for different reasons, but came to understand each other and determined their own self worth through their matches together. Japanese sports manga are absolutely infatuated with the unending debate of effort/hard work vs natural talent/genius. With Ping Pong, the nuances run the gamut of characters with different personal evaluations and relationships to the sport of table tennis with respect to their own perception of talent. It shows in the level of effort they place while training, how they treat their coaches or teammates, and the grace with which they decide to accept the hand they've been dealt. 

Enter the Hero! Enter the Hero! Enter the Hero!

 Kazama Ryuichi is probably the most intriguing character when accounting for differences between the manga and anime adaptation. The anime added a story thread about the daughter of his coach being in love with him, and his vice-captain Sanada holding unrequited feelings for her. The manga has no such female character, instead honing in on the severity of the isolation Kazama inflicts on himself. In order to cultivate his strength, he closes himself off. He has the talent and puts in the effort that Peco ignored, but because he no longer enjoys the sport itself, it is only in defeat that he can feel free again. His match with Peco, who gives in to his instincts and ignores the severity of his knee injury, is incredibly unrealistic. But it's the kind of story that we really need to see, as readers, and the only kind of event that makes sense, thematically and emotionally, for the story itself. Smile is waiting for Peco at the finals. Peco has finally realized that Smile is doing just that, and acknowledges that he must become the Hero. With his goading and self-aware jabs at Kazama, Peco has emotionally accepted that the only way to truly succeed is basking in the love and excitement of the sport. Going up against strong and powerful opponents only makes your victory that much sweeter, and shows how much higher you can fly, after all. Getting pushed against the wall by someone he previously shrugged off, Kazama understands that not everything can be broken down to a science, and that he too has once played for the sake of enjoying the sport. As his walls are broken down, his smile plasters itself and he admonishes his teammates for distracting him. Instead of acting his role as a model athlete and team captain, Kazama embraces his individual desire to play his best, without the timbre of his father's haunting monologue molding his actions up to this point. Thematically, this is much tighter without the looming distraction of a romance B-plot, because it zeroes in on what makes Kazama similar and different to Peco. Kazama has the burden of expectations placed onto him by outside forces, and that's what drove him to train and practice to the extent that Sakuma once did. Peco the slacker had no such influence, but that's what allowed his feelings toward the sport to stay innocent. That Peco could still love playing after suffering multiple losses that humiliated him shows that internal motivation is a different kind of strength than outside influence. Having personal investment in something is meaningful! Caring about something is a form of strength--make of note of that, it's something we see later with Tamura.

 Just remember that defeat means death, Ryuichi. Compromise is the equivalent of chopping off your own arm. Surely truth lies in victory. Win, Ryuichi! For yourself, for your father... For the team, for Japan... Win! You'll surely understand, one way or another. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown..." The pain of honor. The weight of expectations. Solitude and suffering... And finally, you'll feel that your efforts were meaningless... and your victory was in vain. You might question your reasons for fighting. But you must not let doubts get in your way. That gives your opponnent an opening! Such openings invite defeat! Defeat is death... Strength... Only strength... Desire success! Strength... Only strength... Strength...

To this day, it's hard to wrap my head around the implication of Kazama admitting to Sakuma that he only plays for himself, while to Sanada he relays that he "of course, plays for the team." Surely, a giant chunk of intention was merely two-faced public relations to keep his persona alive in front of his team. But how far does Kazama's acknowledgement of Sakuma go? Does he admit his selfishness because Sakuma is no longer a teammate? Because he possibly understands the pain of being jilted for not reaching expectations, possibly because of his father? Sakuma is such an amazing foil to everyone around him, for virtue of the fact that he tries and fails the most. His failures have the biggest impacts on the story, because they emotionally shake Peco and cement Smile's status as a player among the rest of the high school table tennis circuit. He clearly loves the sport, but cannot keep up with the growth of all the players around him, and turns to delinquency because of that. Kazama's honesty to Sakuma absolutely screams to me as a form of penance and self-deprecation for acknowledging that one of the weakest and pathetic players who couldn't keep up despite his love and drive, could easily has been him, had he not met the expectations placed on him. 

Nothing quite like a graffiti'd restroom and the sounds of a toilet flushing to really hammer in the weight of your life decisions that led to you sacrificing your happiness for your commitment to table tennis!

 Peco's emotional honesty is a strength, and the person who helped nurture that is Gramma Tamura. Her tacit explanation to Joe about Smile's circumstances, and about needing to provide love as a coach, is one of the quietest drops of knowledge I've ever seen make such a giant wave of realization for me. Up to that point, she had always treated Peco like a slacker, and once he decides to seriously train and live up to the talent he has, Tamura goes out of her way to improve his physical condition and pull the strings necessary to keep him improving at a rate necessary to participate in the inter-high. All the while, reassuring Peco that she loves him, and that she's doing it all for him. It was genuinely moving to read that, because it's the same kind of line that could easily be dropped by a gaslighter, who could mislead a kid into completely destroying their future. Once again, caring is a form of strength. Seeing her impart that wisdom onto Joe is genuinely moving. He uses that to open up to Smile in a way that was reminiscent to his earlier "courting" when he wanted to bring out Smile's potential, but now with none of the ulterior motives. They have a sincerely tender relationship now. After the blunder Joe made--recommending Neptune Academy's coach to recruit Smile with an interview--Smile runs away during roadwork and disappears until midnight. Smile doesn't even seem to understand what has him so emotionally wrought, but after seeing Joe again in his classroom, Joe reprimands him. That's when Smile accepts their relationship and acknowledges it forthrightly by responding "Yes, my coach." Being able to foster a relationship outside of his possible codependency to Peco is a sign of Smile's conscious willingness to accept others. He is referred to as a robot, devoid of emotions, but he admits to Joe "Even I have feelings." Growth begins with self-awareness.

The fact that she's voiced by Goku in the anime makes this even more poignant.

Everyone in Ping Pong has feelings, and a hallmark of a good sports manga is the willingness to let the spotlight shine on everyone and show their feelings to the readers. I didn't even touch on Kong Wenge's character arc, but his is about as important as Sakuma's, as they fill extremely similar roles. While Sakuma put in effort and failed because he had no talent, Kong put in effort and failed, despite having talent--because he went up against someone who worked even harder to make up for the difference before. Kong already accepted his previous loss. He even went out of his way to fulfill his previously neglected duty of training his new team from the ground up, but regardless of how gracefully he bore his cross, Peco came along to shatter his expectations of someone he previously looked down upon. His lesson is in acknowledging that just as he could change, so can others. Also, Kong wears aviator shades indoors because he is a BAMF. If that doesn't scream: good character, I don't know what else to tell you.

 

Absolutely thrilled to confirm that yes, this is the same match that ends with Kong smiling as the panel zooms out to show the plane flying back to China.

As an artist and a writer, Taiyo Matsumoto excels at his craft. I've previously shared my personal experiences that allowed me to latch onto many characters in the cast of Ping Pong for different reasons, but seeing the same story beats from the anime executed in comic form has really shaken me to my core. I absolutely adore this manga, and implore you to read it if you have any passing interest in this series. If you previously watched the anime, do yourself the favor of getting this 2-Volume omnibus release by Viz Media. The extra interview at the end of Volume 2 provides an insightful, enlightening look at what the editorial process was for Ping Pong, from its conception leading up to serialization itself. We learn of how both author and editor researched the sport and why they even came to the decision of depicting a 1-on-1 sport. It elucidates just how involved and invested Yasuki Hori was in the process of creating this series, because of his simple desire to show Matsumoto's talent to a wider audience. And, to some extent, he was very successful. Ping Pong had an indie live-action movie that received blockbuster success, and eventually was animated by the world-renowned Masaaki Yuasa. The movie was actually such an unprecedented success that it essentially kickstarted its main 3 actors' professional careers, and gave opportunities for their talents to flourish in much bigger productions, according to Hori. If want to understand the hype, do take the plunge and give this series a chance. It's now available in print via Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million, Bookshop.org, RightStuf, Walmart, and local Comic Shops. It's also available digitally via ComiXology, Google Play, iBooks, Kindle, and Nook. 

*Tamura Voice* We love ya, Matsumoto.

This review was possible thanks to Viz Media for providing a review copy.