Albacete Sept.8: Nearly a vulgar Puerta Grande
After a two-year absence from los toros and a journey of over 1,000 miles in pandemic conditions to attend a corrida in person, it may seem churlish to complain about aspects of an event, but there’s no reason why one’s critical faculties should be dimmed.
First, though, let’s acknowledge how great it was to be in a plaza de toros again (and Albacete’s pretty wedding cake of a bullring at that). Yes, the seating is as uncomfortable as ever and that opinionated spectator is mouthing off nearby, but how wonderful to be there, to be able to take in a multitude of details, to participate in the event and its outcome and not to have some television commentator solemnly inform you of the last time Finito de Córdoba wore an all-black traje.
As for the Covid conditions (Albacete’s feria taurina is going ahead whilst neighbouring Murcia’s has been cancelled on public health grounds), capacity was limited; few spectators took advantage of the plaza’s opening two hours beforehand; there was no temperature checking on the way in; lip service is paid to ‘social distancing’ when the computer programme for buying tickets automatically prevents you from leaving an empty seat between you and the next occupied area; and Spaniards are as inconsistent about wearing masks as the citizens of any other Western democracy; but at least mask-wearing was policed by stewards (in the lower tendidos at any event) and the public were advised to leave the plaza in a gradual and orderly fashion at the corrida’s end. Food consumption is discouraged, which made for an over-long merienda break in which ring watering was the main activity.
But on to the event itself, the first corrida of Albacete’s week-long feria taurina. The feria itself, the first to be organised by Simon Casas and relying largely on domecqs albeit without the participation of Roca Rey or El Juli, had been criticised locally when the carteles were first announced. Today’s corrida certainly had an odd set of ingredients - three contrasting styles in the form of Finito, Daniel Luque and Juan Leal and the often-challenging ganadería of Fuente Ymbro.
The bulls all looked great, several being applauded on entry, their weights ranging from 497 kilos (indeed, three bulls were of this weight) to 553 and displaying large horns. However, they showed their age - some were approaching six years old - in the lidia, the animals tending to suspicion in the faena rather than charging openly and frankly.
Finito de Córdoba, now in his 30th year as a matador de toros, epitomised, for some, the weakness of Albacete’s carteles, while others, like myself, viewed his appearance with hope, knowing the quality of the toreo Juan Serrano can sometimes produce. It didn’t happen on his first bull, a wide-horned negro, weak on its rear legs, given three varas (the last due to a mistake by Daniel Luque) and, being static in the faena, rapidly dispatched by a nervous-looking Finito to whistles.
It was a different story with his second animal, though. There were some initial fine verónicas, although the closing media ended with the capote caught on the bull’s horns and Finito hurriedly retreating. The faena showed the veteran at his current best, the torero upright and static, his head bent, and the muleta held low as the animal was guided through single stylish passes. Enjoying proving his worth before an earlier critical crowd, Finito went on too long, then he lost his muleta in his first attempt at a kill, running from the bull, then slipping and falling at the estribo. Helped to his feet by Luque, Finito suddenly looked old and fragile - it can’t be much longer before he calls it a day. A second swordthrust and an aviso led on to the veteran taking saludos.
Daniel Luque, too, had contrasting faenas. A verónica and larga sufficed for the initial capework to his first fuenteymbro before it was given a light vara and a quite of verónicas and a media. Following a brindis to the tendidos, Daniel embarked on an excellent faena, his derechazos, increasingly interspersed with variety such as a molinete, being particularly impressive. I’ve often found the sevillano to be a bland torero in the past, but this season he is allowing his determined character to show through and is communicating better with his audiences. Once he’d collected the estoque, there were no further passes - just a tremendous estocada and a closing descabello for the afternoon’s first oreja.
His killing of his second bull was similarly impressive, lunging towards the animal’s morrillo, the sword going in to the hilt while the matador’s left hand moved the bull past him. This had been a poor beast, though, showing no interest in returning to the capote, and escarbando and reluctant to charge come the faena.
The day’s near-triunfador was thus Juan Leal. On the verge of breaking through in Spain for the last two seasons, the Frenchman has been largely devoid of contracts this side of the Pyrenees in 2021, so it was likely he’d make a special effort to succeed today.
He set out his intentions early on with his first bull., producing a spectacular quite of saltilleras, a brindis al público and dropping to his knees to cite the bull from the centre of the arena at the faena’s start. The bull fell during this opening tanda, but almost caught Juan at its end. This animal was one of today’s fuenteymbros that showed a tendency to wander from the start of its lidia and before long it displayed a preference for las tablas. I have defended Leal in the past as someone who, despite his tremendista tendencies, knows a thing or two about toreo, and he proved this again today when he chose to torear this bull in its querencia, but the toreo was dreadful - ugly positioning and posturing, much gurning towards the spectators - while the temple of his muletazos in circulares was more to do with the bull’s somnambulant state than anything achieved by the torero. The crowd, however, was enthused, and after a strong sword, his legs flailing, Leal was duly awarded an ear.
A second ear almost came his way with the afternoon’s final bull, an animal that made a spectacular, albeit unplanned, opening charge to the picador, crashing into the peto, its hind legs well off the ground. A fine tercio de banderillas followed, courtesy of Marco Leal and Manuel Izquierdo. This time, Leal dedicated to the heavens before embarking on more ugly muletazos, irritatingly constantly adjusting his positioning and occasionally contorting his body in order to secure passes before engaging in arrimón. Once again, many in the crowd were behind him, and he killed the bull with another no-holds-barred sword that entered the toro as if through butter. There’d been a pinchazo before then, however, and two descabellos were needed to finish things, so a puerta grande exit for vulgar toreo was narrowly avoided.