The Hunt for October – by Mario Crescibene I was lying in bed late at night, staring at the divisional standings on my phone. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. The Guardians were miraculously one game back of Detroit. Just a few weeks ago, they had been down by 15.5 games. Now they […]
The Hunt for October
I was lying in bed late at night, staring at the divisional standings on my phone. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. The Guardians were miraculously one game back of Detroit. Just a few weeks ago, they had been down by 15.5 games. Now they were suddenly within striking distance.
My head spun… The numbers on the screen began to blur, the light from the screen fading into the darkness. The phone felt heavy in my hand, sinking into the mattress, and the familiar quiet of my room gave way to a hazy void with swirling, amorphous shadows. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was walking through a strange, liminal space. Suddenly, two doors appeared in front of me, hovering in the darkness. I didn’t know which to choose.
The door on the left was old, its wood worn down with age. The door on the right, however, was made from a smooth, polished stone with curling vines carved into it. As I hesitated, unsure of which door to choose, a soft whistle drifted from behind the door on the right… a tune I had heard before, and I instinctively pushed the stone door open. There, standing before me on the other side… was the shaman.
“Hermanito!” he called, smiling widely. “You found me!”
“Where are we?” I asked, still unsure if I was dreaming or awake.
“This is a space few people can reach,” he said, his voice echoing softly around us. “I’m glad you made it.”
“I was just looking at the standings,” I said, gesturing toward the memory of my phone, “and now I’m here with you.”
He laughed gently. “Everything is connected, hermanito. Come. Walk with me.”
We moved together through the void, and he began speaking. “Do you remember the last time we talked? You were frustrated. You said the Guardians’ season felt over, even though the Guardians weren’t eliminated yet. And what did I tell you?”
“That the season is over when the season is over… not to count them out,” I replied, sheepishly.
“Exactly!” he said, eyes glinting. “And just look where the team is now. All that worrying, all that frustration—it was wasted energy. You must learn to have more faith in what I tell you. Focusing on faith and patience is always a better way to use our energy than wasting it on negative things like doubt and anger.”
I nodded. “So…what comes next then?”
The shaman’s gaze sharpened. “Now… comes the hunt!”
I looked at him blankly. “The hunt?”
“Yes,” he said as we continued to walk through the amorphous shadow realm. “I know how much you love the Guardians, but do you know who the guardian of the jungle is?”
But before I could offer an answer, he proclaimed the answer: “The jaguar!”
As suddenly as he had said it, the void around us dissolved, and was replaced by the dense, vivid green of the jungle. I froze as an enormous jaguar appeared in the foliage, golden eyes glinting in the dim light. I let out a terrified scream.
The shaman laughed. “Relájate hermanito. We are still in the liminal realm. You are safe here. The jaguar is here to teach, not to harm.”
I exhaled shakily, still staring at the massive cat. It lifted its head slightly, nostrils flaring, as it caught a scent through the jungle air. The jaguar began moving, muscles rippling, eyes locked on the invisible trail of its prey.
The shaman gestured toward it. “Watch how it moves. The jaguar is supremely patient. It does not rush its process. It takes every step deliberately. All its energy is focused on the hunt. Even if its prey is miles away, it tracks the scent slowly, steadily, fully present in the moment. It does not panic; it bides its time.”
We began walking with the jaguar through the jungle, watching it move silently through the undergrowth. It was masterful in how such an enormous cat navigated its way around vines and roots, silently stalking its prey in the shadows.
The shaman continued, “This is how the Guardians must act now. They cannot waste energy and try to win the division in one single bounding leap. They must take everything one game at a time. One inning at a time. One pitch at a time. If the jaguar leaps too soon, all its energy and time goes wasted and the prey escapes. In the hunt… every moment matters. Every step brings you closer to the goal.”
The jaguar’s pace never faltered as it stealthily slid through the brush. It moved with a patience that seemed eternal, following the scent with an unwavering persistence. The jaguar’s presence was mesmerizing, terrifying, yet inspiring. Then, all of a sudden, the jaguar stopped, aware of something further ahead in the jungle that I could not yet perceive.
“The jaguar is the greatest of all hunters,” the shaman continued. “It fears no other animal in the jungle.”
As the shaman said this, a rustling stirred in the leaves just ahead of the jaguar.
“The jaguar is the guardian of the jungle because no other animal is equal to it,” the shaman continued, watching intently as something massive moved through the foliage toward the jaguar lying in wait.
“The guardian of the jungle protects its territory with a ferocity no other animal can match, little brother,” the shaman whispered.
The mighty jaguar’s muscles tensed in anticipation as its prey drew closer. And for the first time, I glimpsed an orange and black stripe weaving through the leaves.
“The jaguar bides its time: supreme… without equal… the silent guardian… waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“And when it does, it strikes with a vicious power no other animal can match. That is why it always catches its prey.
“Even… if that prey is a tiger.”
Category: General Sports
