Alan Wizemann
Social Commerce Thought Leader, Internet Technologist, Innovator and Entrepreneur

Seeing my first bullfight was something I never thought would happen. The spectacle that builds to the actual fight was impressive to say the least. There was an honor in the presentation, with both ritual and traditions combined into a sport. The matadors are as bold and brazen as you would imagine, pleasing the crowd with flair and costume in a deadly pattern. The bull doesn’t know why he is there and the confusion of his expression adds to the crowds anticipation of the drama about to unfold. Two spears in and the blindfolded horses hold their executioners with pride and courage, other matadors stick the bull with barbs, tasseled with colorful flags while the main matador prepares.

He walks, slowly and with a confidence known by only a few men, holding a red cape and a saber. The sabers purpose is to end the animals suffering with a direct strike to the bulls heart – about a minute later it’s over with a clean hit, the saber diving deep to the blade. The bull fought for it’s life. It only knows how to do that. The matadors fought for the crowd and the judges.

I was so taken by the spectacle I felt sick and had to leave before the end of the first fight, unable to fully participate in what is a bucket list level adventure of many men. Before the last strike I was outside to get fresh air, catching the triumph and simultaneous defeat over a high definition television, probably a closer shot of the kill then I needed at the time. The crowd continues it’s party while the bull passes, the next fight is prepped and I search for the hardest thing to find in the arena. Toilet paper.

The next fight was pretty standard from what I gathered from the fans and spectators, it also ended pretty quickly. What was about to unfold over fights 3 and 5 were absolutely extraordinary. I am not sure if it was just the size of the event as bull fights happen all the time, this one was about to get special. To sum up before I dive into any detail on fight number 3: The bull won. This doesn’t mean he survived, already fatally wounded by the process that just isn’t an option. Bulls also are smarter than your average cow as they learn quickly – if the kill doesn’t happen fast enough or they fight again – they know how to win. That wasn’t the situation with #3 or the 49 year old matador that probably has killed hundreds of bulls. He was just having an off night and that bull wasn’t going without a fight. The first strike the bull had on his tally card was to the inner left thigh of the matador - throwing him up in the air about 5 feet and then down on his back face to face with his adversary. The other matadors quickly rushed in to pull the bulls attention away.

The machismo that followed was legendary. The matador stood up and yelled at the bull, angry for taking a hit. While limping back to the side of the arena, he strikes the fence with an anger of a man that just lost his pride. The sideline helpers wrapped his leg up, quickly, and he was back in the ring. At this point I think the entire crowd knew that was a bad idea. Visibly in pain and bleeding through the bandage, the matador continued his dance with the 1 ton animal, sweeping his cape over and down to set the bull up for the final hit. Then, it happened again. The matador, probably unable to move as low as he needed to continue the rhythm he needs to pull a “toro” or “ole” from the crowd that he has done for decades,  takes a direct hit from the bull. He is tossed in the air higher and father than before and it obviously injured.

Pride knows no bounds, and the matador got up after the strike. He was determined to finish the battle. While the other matadors prepped for the next stage with barbs to increase the bleeding of the bull, he prepared with a new red cap and the kill saber. Walking, like nothing happened to him on a sunny day he entered the bulls sight line and began what he hoped was their final dance to win back his pride and the crowds admiration. Strike number three happened almost as fast as you think – taking the matador out of the match. In an almost repetitive fashion, the bull took the matador to the air, cape and saber falling away. Quickly, like rodeo clowns the other matadors come in and distract the bull so the fallen matador can be whisked away on the hands of four helpers.

A new matador enters the ring, clad in a turquoise outfit with a stance of bravery, armed with his own cape and saber, quickly completing what the older matador failed to do. This wasn’t the last time we would see this fine example of a bull fighter – as he would return in the best fight to grace the Plaza de Toros in quite some time, earning him the highest esteem a bullfighter can receive after a fight.

Fight number 5 started like all the others, the large bull enters the ring ready to do battle like an amped up prize fighter, taunted by 4 to 5 matadors with bright pink capes. It becomes quickly apparent that this bull means business, immediately charging the matadors unlike the others before him. This goes on for about 2 minutes and the first horns are sounded, calling in the horsemen with their spears, setting up the bull for the final fight. The first spear hits the bull perfectly, with a depth that causes many to look away. Blood starts to flow from the new faucet showing the spearman a job well done and providing the perfect target for the second, required hit. Almost immediately, the second hit is administered and the bull lights up with a fury – hitting the horse dead on into the side of the area, almost off of its feet. Several men try to push the blindfolded horse, matadors try to persuade the bull away from its unintended victim… while the turquoise matador prepares.

The second hors sound and the horses, one now out of the grasp of the bulls horns, file out of the area and the matador enters with his usual instruments in hand. The dance starts. Like the matador and the bull have been rehearsing for years, its clockwork. The crowd starts to build anticipation with jubilant cheers every session the matador has with the bull. The machismo and bravery grow in the matador, feeding off the bull and the crowd. His glances to the bull (seen on the HD televisions) show his mood and attention. He mimics the bulls fight, expressions and anger. With a proud on toe stands and  chin toss up to reaffirm the pride he has earned to this second, the dance continues. For about 6 more sessions with growing anticipation and delight of the crowd the matador and bull are in lock step – seeming to know every move of the bull before it happens and waiting just long enough to squeeze a squeal from my wife every time.

The matador now takes the saber in his hand and begins the set up of the final strike. The pose is beautiful, with the saber aimed over his head, searching for the only 4 inches that matter on a bull to him. With a little more dance, the matadors blade lifts high in the air in within a tenth of a second its gone, only the sabers handle visible in the bulls back. The matador stands before the bull, triumphant. Other matadors come in to run the bull, tiring him out so he passes as blood is no longer circulating in his formidable body. They are ignored. The matador and the bull dance once again, this time to a slower song, with an honor for each other for a fight well done. The matador, taking his red cape behind him places his hand on the bulls head, directly between the instruments that took down his compadre – and helps the bull to the ground with a simple push that not only showed compassion but power. The bull, now on its knees and stomach, surrenders. The crowd however, did not. It was a standing ovation, from the judges box to the top tier nose bleed seats. While the cheers grew, the final spinal strike is administered to make sure the bull is down. There isn’t even a twitch. The matador performed his job to perfection. Parading around the arena, accepting thrown rose bouquets like a dancer on a stage, the matador relishes in the moment. The judge approaches the bull during the celebration and removes the ears – a symbol to honor the matador for the perfect fight. A symbol I would later hear that hasn’t happened for quite some time.

Taking the ears with a salute a wrestler would accept a large gold belt, the matador walked another long circle around the area while the bull was drawn out behind 3 horses, almost as fast as he entered. The matador tossed the earns into the stands, a move that I am sure I won’t understand for years to come.

Bull fights are not for the weak. They are gruesome, cruel shows of the power of men over animal. They are a culture and tradition that many can’t and won’t understand but today – they became a moment I would never forget. Probably as unforgettable as the moment the tourist tries to take the caught ear from the perfect battle through TSA.