Rosario PérezEl Puerto de Santa Maria Updated: Save Send news by mail electrónicoTu name *

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A contained emotion, until eight o’clock in the afternoon broke out in The Port of Santa Maria. All went on a rampage, the heart and the reason. Instructors for the reasons. It was 6 August, the date the railroad with the fire of passion in the calendar of the bullfighting. The event of the season was celebrated in a Real Square, as it was emphasized by pa applause and vivas to the King. The Kings, Don Felipe and Don Juan Carlos, who remembered in the boxes for their unwavering support of the Festival of the bulls. The Feast of all. The notes of the National Anthem climbed through the city of the Hundred Palaces. The people, on foot. Tears clouded some eyes. The crying appeared in the minute of silence for the victims of the Covid-19, with a touch of prayer in tribute to the fallen. Many are those who were prior to the release of the sixth bull of his life, so cruel sometimes. That music silent was broken with a huge “long live the King!” on the throat of the downed high. The chorus responded to the parish with a “viva!”, followed by a voice warning: “Please put the mask to the height of the nose, to smoke only what is necessary”.

Shock of Ponce

After the advices, appeared the first, “Breakwater”, a painting created for ramming. And so he did in those veronicas in which Enrique Ponce won terrain with poise. Made a site of his own, with the elegance and character of your seal. There was a change of hand fell in love with, and not just To draw in the sand. With the lift incordiando increasingly, continued with muletazos with relaxation and not a few snags. Missed cleaning by the wind, but there were moments that encandilaron. And applause to the fright: pricked in the first meeting and, in the second, to bury the thrust, “Breakwater” lit up by the arm, encunó a few seconds and threw him in the ring. With Ponce motionless, fortunately the bull is not made by him, and there were no consequences to regret. The master of Chiva greeted by a standing ovation and shook then his hand with the Ana Soria, with the heart still cowering in a barrier.

The torería of a genius

Morante de la Puebla received with veronicas delicious the second. What a way to goad the mother of all mothers capoteras. The seville, a lot more thin, sculpted straight rights of much value and a torería huge. As the trimming of roots gallistas, so cool. Blessed naturally to lick fresh wounds, such as those of John, without his partner of town by the pandemic. All the sorrows are drowned in that ocean of aided by high where inhabits the vastness. Morante, with a piece of red cloth, open the doors to that sea that sang Alberti with words. You threw to kill of the truth and cut off an ear of law.

Pearls of Aguado

After the triumph morantista, Pablo Aguado went out, spurred on in the third, a bull to which he guessed it from the start its buoyant condition and Iván García mashed two stately pairs of banderillas. Aguado, accompanying the onslaught of so angelic, waiting for the bravo, left drops were pearls, one at a time. All very slowly, although without that firmness of from the corduroy. The best would come to the natural one: with feet together, took flight and drew posters category. The lines went crazy with the great revelation of last season and, despite the puncture, cut off a trophy with a lot of force.

He stopped in the capote the jabonero dirty room, which put the trotters ahead. With a technique prodigious, Ponce got into sidewalk the rebrincada ramming it, taking it always very soaked crutch. Valencia, in its pure state to the concierto de Aranjuez, and with a set design that excited, dusted off her now-classic poncinas and finished off with some of the fans on their feet. Walked a trophy on a lap of the arena grand. And until it is stopped under the banner that read “Peña taurine Ana Soria. Live Morante”.

No news of the breed

With a long wanted to greet Morante to the fifth, not wanting to hope, both that the descastado animal fell before the matador is profiled. It was not magical evening a chapter as well. There was also no news of caste in the sixth, in which the illusion of watching Watered down evaporated as the vastness of the bull sang his gentle hen.

A feeling of disappointment flooded then the Royal Square, although the memory was a chore unforgettable Morante. And “the accomplishment” of an entrepreneur, Garzón, which was the sign of the most excitement of the summer. In the anochecida still sounded the echo of that intimate and spontaneous ovation for the King of Spain, by the King of the toreros –in the centenary of Joselito– and for all the fallen in this valley of tears of a global pandemic.

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