In Pamplona, ??during Sanfermines, there is no hangover worth it, the days and nights go hand in hand in an infinite and joyous loop. One would say that last night’s electoral face-off did not leave a hangover either, although surely some point of that 46.5 share corresponds to residents of Pamplona who chose to witness the transformation of what should have been a dialectical duel into a tavern brawl. And, like every day, at 6:30 in the morning, just twelve before the bullfight parade, the Plaza de Toros was already filled with a multi-generational crowd that awaited the arrival of the running of the bulls, between music, laughter and kisses. . Tell me where in the world something like this can happen.
It happens that one of the bullfights was announced for the afternoon- I would say the bullfight-, a priori, more attractive, which does not mean more box office hits because here the crowd is guaranteed whatever the poster. But of course, that Morante, Talavante and Roca Rey (who repeats on Thursday) coincide in it are big words. The bulls for the occasion, by Núñez del Cuvillo.
That is why the wait until the afternoon, enlivened, yes, by the lunch, the appetizer and the food – like this, at once – was lived among the fans (who, contrary to what some suppose, are many and many) with a different restlessness, excited.
The first Cuvillo came out running and without attending to the capes, whether they were the matador, Morante de la Puebla, or his subordinates. The one with the horse was a covered procedure with hardly any punishment (as in most afternoons at the fair, by the way, which being the one with the Bull, gives reason to ponder) and after the banderillas Morante opened the task with bullfighters assisted with two hands in the tercio, a change of hand and a tasty pinwheel.
Short batch of naturals and another round warm. Returning to the left, the bull had already changed, his attacks were discontinuous and Morante tried again in round bullfighting without much success. The deep jab was effective and he greeted a standing ovation.
Without possible showing off Alejandro Talavante set the first of his lot, who was not a paragon of bravery either, rather the opposite, as was verified in rods. Good fight by Javier Ambel in banderillas, which seemed to enliven the bull. And after a powerful start by low Talavante he threw his left-handed crutch and the series had vibration. The virtue of the bull was promptness and the bullfighter from Extremadura, already deceitful on the right, took advantage of it in series of good expression and varied auctions. He had his ear won but the puncture prior to the lunge left the award in applause.
By the way, at that point in the bullfight (second bull) the news was that neither passes from behind nor bullfighting on their knees had been seen, a constant at the fair. Of course, Roca Rey’s appearance on the scene was still missing.
The weight of the third was that of an article of the Penal Code, 555 (kg) and Roca Rey, despite trying, could not show off with the cape either.
The third of rods? Well, that.
When Roca Rey went to the media to toast the square, it was an explosion, since the Peruvian is already one of his own.
And the explosion continued when he fell to his knees, passed it round and changed it from behind, shall we say?
Already standing, ovations in the rounds, even songs of Peru, Peru!. Cuvillo’s was not a paragon of perfection, rather the opposite, but Roca Rey, always very firm and with adjustment, added naturals although enthusiasm lowered the pitch. The infallible recipe of those changed by the back, the circulars, getting between the pitons and the rudeness, put things back in their place and as the blow from above turned the bull upside down in a matter of seconds the clamor was of those who make the stone of the laying rumble. The two handkerchiefs appeared in the box and with both ears in his hands Roca Rey made a tremendous turn around the ring while the flags of Peru and Osasuna rained down from the sun-bathed stands, owner and lord of the heart of Pamplona, ??who when he endorses a bullfighter no longer lets go.
Morante received as second of his lot a cape soap bull that curdled a bouquet of verónicas and a stocking with feet together that caught more than one and one with their throats and hands full in the snack, while the wind blew away. made him unwanted (by the bullfighters, not by the suffocated public) and unexpected visitor.
That is why Morante’s swordsman thoroughly soaked -with the jug- the crutch of the Genius of La Puebla before he offered a toast to the public.
The start of the task, high with two hands and crutches from below had its that but a disarmament cooled things.
Rounds with a good rhythm, change of crutch for a heavier one and a series in which the bullfighter put much more than the bull. With feet together he passed it closely before a new disarmament led him to take the rapier, with which he entered to kill with distrust, perhaps diminished by the wrist injury that forced him to miss his last two commitments.
The verónicas were applauded at the feet together of Talavante to the fifth, who squeezed firmly in his first encounter with the horse and did not make it easy to flag.
After the toast, Talavante, on his knees in the tercio, bullfighting in the round, turning on his knees and finishing off looking at the public. Seated, ready, he continued, already upright, with his right hand in warm series and with a ligature, before a change to the back for natural bullfighting, but the Cuvillo, with his short run, made him return to his right hand, now already in nearby lands because the bull had been fading away. Ballet flats before a lunge above with lethal effect. The hearing request seemed majority but the occasional president was great and Alejandro Talavante had no choice but to settle for a highly applauded return to the ring. The anger at the president, won hard.
By the way, the Pamplona Box, so arbitrary and at the chance of the councilor or councilor on duty, is to make them look at it. Both by excess, yesterday without going any further, and by default.
Little history in the first thirds of the one that closed the square, animated by the sounds and palmas of La Marcha Radetzky although this is not Vienna or January 1, but Pamplona and July.
Cuvillo’s bull followed the tonic of a bullfight of half measures and Roca Rey alternated series to the right and left of little relief until he took it to sunny fields, looked at these and it was all olés and songs.
It is not that there was bullfighting in a divine way, but each stop in suburban areas, each challenging glance, was cheered in a big way. The thrust arrived, the handkerchiefs came out and the president, tsn hers she, only showed one.
What did it matter if Roca is already King of Pamplona.
