At 20.42 Roca Rey was born again. For the second time in the afternoon. Just as he had returned from the infirmary to account for the sixth, a real uncle, the black crows flew away. Nailing the Peruvian like a stake to start with statuary, the bull ran him over as if he were being taken away by an excavator ahead to release him under the stirrup of the boards. We lost sight of Kingrock as if submerged by a shark. The square was a scream. The capes and pawns were practically thrown on top. Cajetan also threw himself into the rescue with a clean body, and the bull left a prey to prey on him. Also against the boards. That was horror, Dantesque. It could have been fatal. A miracle. Roca Rey rose with a broken taleguilla to dictate his law. Which is the triumph at all costs. Santander lived with emotion the task with the meek giving himself reluctantly to the lord of the great power that came from Peru. An inhuman guy. When he burst it with a sword, the clamor of admiration for the hero ended up collapsing the big door that could not be. Doctors were waiting to check the beating.

At 19.12 Roca Rey had already staged the atavism of the party that, in essence, with explained among the pythons that looked for them on the ground meandering their femorals. A conscious somersault. I mean, the matador aware of his omen, of the threat that dwelt in that uncertain, aggressive and treacherous bull. In his stops, in his eyes, he measured it as the sniper measures the victim. RR was not deterred by his violent errands when he passed inside, the brakes on his hands. Until when emptying a series, so dragged the crutch and settled on his heels by the weight of value, he tied the chest and the bull of Bañuelos did not forgive the somersault. He impaled him, turned him over and shook him against the arena, where he sought him out with the viciousness of cowards stabbing him in the back. Under the commotion of the hoods at the remove threw the blades. And the Peruvian clutched his head where the daggers whistled. When he sat up in a daze and let go of the assists, the beast was already the man unleashed. That he went for the aggressor with pride touched and heart in his mouth. The attack on an open grave, with the knife between his teeth, frightened by its power the bull that hid under his bravado danger the genius of meekness. And it cracked. The square roared when Roca was shameless victor of the battle. And he shouted with his back and all the bravado boasts. The bull was already fleeing from its own shadow. Before falling, knocked down by a thunderous sword, dead at the feet of the god of Peru. The square chanted his name - "King Rock!, King Rock!, King Rock!" - , which redeemed us before the anti-bullfighting outside as the bullfight developed. The ear sounded like a thunder of justice.

At 19.43 Pablo Aguado collected an ovation of consolation, or despair, when they dragged Señorón, a very good and very beautiful bull. So narrow of temples and so fine of class. We forgive the bullfighters artists many things, but you can not forgive that a bull like that leaves without a memorable task. The two punctures (without faith) are not worth as an excuse. Before I hadn't rounded anything, or deepened, or even met with him. A nice beginning, that change of hand, that series outlined of naturals. All with little seat and little government. "Be over you!" they say in Aragon. Señorón had his palms on his way to the limbo of the bulls of sought-after bravery.

Cayetano at the dawn of the afternoon had faced a frankly handsome bull that inaugurated the bullfight with more trapío of the fair. Later, what he had inside was another story, because he was scared of the suspicion of being brave. And he soon became infatuated with the wants, abandoning his style of departure by stubbornness with a loose face. He put on gazapón to kill him, which Cayetano did, very focused, at once. As well as a serious head room that fell asleep in the mud without ever breaking forward. Neither clearly nor classy, brute. Rivera complied with quite an order. At 20.00 it was over.

They took turns while Roca Rey was recomposed in the infirmary. He jumped a fifth with body (and armed) of upper square. Aguado fixed his body on the horse with three punches, one tip in the querencia in plan "I did not want". The bull of the cold was absent and the lightness of feet persisted in the bullfighter. The hair delayed the end of an afternoon that was long.

At 20.30 the Peruvian returned to dictate his law on the border of life and death. It could not be the exit on shoulders to end, again, in the infirmary.

Token

Plaza de Cuatro Caminos. Tuesday, July 25, 2023. Fourth fair. Full. Bulls of Bañuelos,


Cayetano, turkey blue and gold. Half lunge lying (silence). In the room, lunge lying (silence).


Roca Rey, burgundy and jet. Corner lunge (ear and request). In the sixth, puncture and lunge (two ears).


Pablo Aguado, in black and silver. Two punctures and lunge (greetings). In the fifth, lunge and three hairless. Warning (silence).


  • Bulls
  • Andres Roca King
  • Cayetano Rivera
  • Articles Zabala de la Serna
  • Santander

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