THE SUNDAY BULL FIGHT!

By noon the sky began to clear and we were anxious to get out of the condo. Besides that, our coffee cups and propane gas tanks were empty, our burritos were gone and our cold fighting stash from this morning had been reduced to ashes. So we went across the street to our neighbor’s house in hopes of making a score. Or, at least I did. Unfortunately, by this time, my source of cold relief, Jose Luis, was mentally residing elsewhere and I had to talk with his younger brother, Miguelito.


Miguelito is in his late twenties. He’s a perpetual student who returns to his university in Mexico City tomorrow. He does not believe in over eating or the power of smoke as cold remedies. In contrast to his brother, he’s well dressed and has the most highly polished leather shoes I have ever seen.

He suggested that we attend a bull fight to take our minds off the cold. Unknown to most of the liberal gringos here there is a small bull ring in San Miguel. It is appropriately located on Calle Recreo (Entertainment Street) right next to the Catholic grade school and near the town square. In any event, when the matadors (killers) are not in town it also serves as a ring for big time wrestling. This seemed a perfect remedy to the cold weather and cold shoulders I have been experiencing in this “progressive” community. So off we went to the plaza de toros or bull ring with Miguelito as our guest.

The plaza de toros is about a twenty minute walk from our condo. An unfortunate aspect of San Miguel is that the narrow stone sidewalks are frequently pooped on by dogs. Shinny shoes and all, Miguelito led the way ever conscience of the poop and always letting us know when he came upon any.

The plaza de toros is small and you could easily walk past it when it’s not in use. You couldn’t miss it today. The lines were long. You must, of course, buy a ticket and there are two lines. You must choose a line: either sol or sombra (sun or shade). We went for sol. Because of the cool weather this line was long. Not to worry, a cold beer or a shot of mescal is available even while in line. Tickets are barato (cheap) at 100 pesos each. But, because you sit on cold cement bleachers you must either suffer the cold cement or rent a cushion for another 50 pesos. We rented the cushions. We also offered a small gratuity to the ticket seller and received ring side seats. With cushions and fresh drinks in hand we proceeded to the warm sunny side of the plaza.

You actually walk through the bull ring to get to your section and then proceed up a set of removable stairs to your assigned seat. The stairs are later removed much like the portable stairs used to board an airplane. It is unclear how you would exit the plaza during the middle of the fight should you need to do so. In fact, I don’t think you can leave once the fight has begun. Nevertheless, I was hoping at least one drunk would make a run for it later during the fight.

We settled into our seat cushions and observed the activities in the ring. Within minutes a small stage was set up as were booths for food vendors. Beverage vendors simply walk through the bleachers and sell drinks. The food vendors were selling tortas, tacos, tamales and, of course, small Papa John pizzas. Ah, the romance of ancient traditions.

Soon the stage was full of male and female dancers in colorful outfits dancing to the tunes of the mariachis as played on horns and guitars and singing with great care and pride.

Perhaps we had been too generous with Miguelito because by now he was looking a little pale in the afternoon sun and we had only been in the plaza for about thirty minutes. While he had a good voice he clearly wasn’t singing the same tunes as the mariachis. This was clear to us and even more obvious to those who spoke Spanish. At this point it was impossible to put any distance between us as we just about shared the same rented whoopee cushions and the portable stairs had been removed signaling the start of the fight.

Each bull has a name and other statistics are provided. Our bull was named Ferocidad or fierceness. He was branded number 611 and weighed 900 kilos. That’s right he weighed over a ton.

The sight of Ferocidad charging into the plaza was amazing. Clearly, nothing was going to stop this bull. You would be crazy even to think about entering the ring with it. Miguelito’s reaction was equally amazing. He stood, shouted and waved his arms in a wild reaction to Ferocidad’s entrance. The crowd wasn’t impressed.

As soon as the crowd had quieted down the light sound of a horn could be heard as the Picadores entered the ring. These are the guys who ride two padded and blindfolded horses into the ring and who will proceed to stab Ferocidad in the back with long lances. As luck would have it, this occurred directly in front of us. The aim of the Picadore is to pierce the artery running down the back of the bull. This time, their aim was perfect and the breached artery spurted blood high into the air. Unfortunately, some of the warm blood hit us but even more landed on Miguelito. The crowd went wild. So did Miguelito. God only knows what he was saying but the group around us didn’t seem pleased. I guess I shouldn’t have agreed to purchase him another beer and a shot of mescal, but I did, after telling him I was now out of money and would not be purchasing anything more.

In came the Banderilleros. These are the guys who run at the bull and stab it with small colorful harpoon-like darts. This is always a crowd pleaser. Usually, there are six darts neatly inserted into the bull’s back before the Matador enters the ring. The crowd seemed to be enjoying the show except for the guy named Miguelito who wouldn’t sit down or stop shouting. We assumed Ferocidad wasn’t liking it too much either but, contrary to Miguelito, he was getting quieter by the minute.

To the blare of horns in walked the Matador. The first thing he does is to walk over to the judge’s stand and acknowledge him with a grand bow. Yes, there is a judge, there is a time clock, and there are rules, etc. The Matador wants to impress the judge with his courage and technique because, if he does so during the fight, he will be awarded with one of the bull’s ears. Sometimes even two ears and a tail are awarded and usually they are thrown into the crowd in celebration of the bull’s death. After acknowledging the judge, the Matador walks around the ring with hat in hand acknowledging the adoring crowd. We waited with anticipation as he approached our section. Sam waved at him. Miguelito spat on him.

That’s when the shouting crowd came forward and with one uniform motion pushed Miguelito into the ring and to the foot of the Matador. Did I mention that the Matador carries a sword?

Miguelito was unhurt but knocked out cold. The “paramedics” who came to assist Miguelito attended to him from their wheelbarrow, the same wheelbarrow used to remove the scooped up bull and horse poop in the ring. Last we saw of Miguelito he was in that wheelbarrow headed towards the exit and not likely smelling too good. We were, however, still impressed by the shine on his shoes. Thankfully, he hadn’t stepped in any poop.

Miguelito’s disgusting behavior over, we settled back to watch the charming and civilized tradition of slowly killing a bull.

Miguelito will be on his way back to the university in Mexico City tomorrow morning and we are sure that his brother, Jose Luis, won’t remember us as anything more than just another pipe dream. Ferocidad won’t remember anything either but fun was had by all and the Matador was awarded one ear. Ole!