Before passing judgement on the controversial subject of bullfighting, we thought we should see it first hand and Seville turned out to be our chance. We arrived on a Thursday, the one day of the week that they have fights over summer. I thought I would write a blog entitled Death in the Afternoon, after Hemmingway's famous book but, given the daytime temperature, they sensibly hold the event at 10pm, which is also the favoured kick off time for football here in Spain.
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The particpants emerge to approach the president's area |
Each week three young, up and coming matadors get the chance to fight two bulls each in one of the most famous rings in Spain, the
Real Maestranza de Caballería de Sevilla, watched by a mixture of tourists and knowledgeable locals. The Corrida (literally "running") is not for the squeamish at the best of times but throwing in some inexperienced toreros doesn't help as they are more vulnerable themselves and, worse, less efficient at killing the bull at the end. The consequence was that death was sometimes slightly more lingering than would have been intended - something that the crowd is not impressed by. Nevertheless there was excitement, especially for the mad Dutch woman behind us who whooped and shrieked all evening.
What does impress the home crowd is a bullfighter who can swish the cape so close to his body that the bull seems to almost pass through him when it charges from close range. The third of the three youngsters, a Mexican named Brandon Campos, wowed the crowd with a series of passes on both sides of his body. He was quite a showman too in his suit of lights and wiggled his body at the bull in a manner that would have provoked most people let alone a huge animal with a number of hooked stakes sticking out of its back. He loved himself and that seems half the battle. If he had been a chocolate drop he'd have eaten himself. The other two would-be matadors just didn't have it.
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Brandon moves in for the kill |
After a number of delicate swooping manoevures which had the crowd in raptures, it came to the nasty bit. Would he kill the bull clinically or would he turn out to be more like Arsenal (looks great but can't finish for toffee)? Well, he had the bull virtually hypnotised and was able to kill it stone dead with one thrust of his pointy sword. Cue lots of white handkerchiefs as the crowd petitioned El Presidente to award a prize. El Presidente said yes and our boy was duly presented with both ears of the bull by a gentleman with large feathers protruding from his hat.
A lap of honour followed at the end of which he flung the ears into the crowd. Now, it's one thing catching Rafa Nadal's sweaty shirt at the end of a tennis grand slam win but what do you do with an ear? Probably a wet ear at that. Maybe the kid who was having his photo taken with it got his mum to crisp it in the oven, iron it and have it framed. Who knows?
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The Real Maestranza at night, with a lone Torero |
The ring is a beautiful setting lit up at night. There is pageantry, drama, and danger, with bull and human life at stake. At times it's ugly but I imagine if it was sanitised you would lose the beauty too. A bit like most things in life.
Should it be banned? Difficult, but personally I would say no (the views in this blog are not necessarily those of the Executive Editor, Suzanne). I can see why people don't like it and it certainly goes against the British sense of fair play. But it comes from a very different culture which makes it hard for us outsiders to judge (which of course doesn't stop us). It isn't the result that counts (the outcome being highly probable if not quite inevitable) but the way it is done. Someone illustrated the UK-Spain cultural difference recently by writing that if the British had invented bullfighting it would go as follows - a plainly dressed bloke would just shoot the bull between the eyes, Indiana Jones style, in the first minute and be done with it, without the delay caused by all the pointless stuff with the cape. And it would now (rightly) be banned of course.