Damián Castaño and the emotion of truth before a Miura bull

What is it about the truth that excites so much and brings everyone to agreement? But what is the truth? In this bullfighting matter, it is clear: what happens when a man dressed in lights gives himself sincerely and bravely, and risks it all before a demanding and brave bull. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, the emotion awakens and invades those present.

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For that, of course, you need a real bull and a brave bullfighter. Precisely what happened in the fifth chapter of the last bullfight of the Vic-Fezensac fair. The bull was named Pañoleto; the hero, Damián Castaño. Pañoleto bore the Miura brand and, after fulfilling two picadors, lost his strength and showed a worrying lack of power, which several of his brothers had already demonstrated.

He did not make it easy with the banderillas and reached the last third with not the slightest intention of giving a single charge. The bull, with a serious look and closed mouth, did not have even half a muletazo; he limited himself to staying underneath, measuring, testing, and seeking the target. A smart and tough animal that would have lasted less than a minute for anyone, but he met a bullfighter hungry for triumph.

Damián Castaño’s performance was not a brilliant one because, simply, it was impossible. Old-fashioned, often on his legs, the man from Salamanca positioned himself, dodged the goring as best he could, and stole a handful of half passes that no one saw. There was no calmness or beauty, but so what. There was something much more important: emotion. The emotion that risk and truth give.

The stands, which until that moment were practically dozing off before the weakness of the feared miuras, woke up as if startled, seized by emotion and with their hearts in their throats. In one of the blows of that particular fight, the Miura seemed to hit Castaño’s chest with a headbutt, and he began to show visible pain.

Thus, limping, beaten up, he squared the beast and launched himself at the neck, leaving an almost complete crossed sword thrust. The audience burst into applause and shouts of “bullfighter!, bullfighter!”, especially when, moments later, the bull folded its legs near the barrier. The ear was the just reward for a man who had risked his life. No stories. No flourishes. Through tears, he took a lap of honor amid acclaim.

A little earlier, Damián had encountered the other side of the coin. The second was the best bull of the uneven Miura fight. An animal that fulfilled in four varas (pushed in the first and charged from very far in the last two) and charged with promptness, steadiness, and joy with the muleta. Castaño gave him distance and left estimable muletazos on both hands. The best series was achieved when he planted his feet, tightened up, and linked the round passes in a span of ground.

The rest of the event was another story. Pepe Moral was not up to the good first bull, noble and brave, who did not intimidate anyone. The Sevillian kept poking and losing steps. Against the soft, dull, and unbrave fourth, he could do little.

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The third, just in presence, returned to the pens due to its obvious invalidity. One’s heart sinks when seeing an animal from this legendary, tough breeding fall to the ground. In substitution, the drawn sixth came out, also soft and with very short charges. Thus, the fight closed with a dull and lackluster Yonnet substitute, which ended up running away. Against both, Del Pilar relied on experience and limited himself to fulfilling the task.

The Vic Bull Fair ended and, thanks to Damián Castaño, it closed with a flash of the most authentic fiesta. Bullfighter!