August 3, 2014

South Texas town fills bleachers with bloodless bullfights

(photo)
 
Skills, but no kills. Bloodless bullfight, olé! The ancient artistry of corridas is practiced in Texas with a less-violent conclusion but no less celebration.
 
(by Lynn Brezosky chron.com 1-22-08)
 
The bleachers were full, the air rich with the aroma of fajitas, the matadors resplendent as the sixth season of corridas, or bullfights, at Texas' only exhibition bullring got under way.

After the opening act — Guapo, the dancing horse, pranced sideways and backward, lifted its hooves, and curtsied to ranchera music — a tractor combed the dirt.

Announcer Lyn Sherwood prepped the crowd. Many were white-haired retirees from Northern states, "Winter Texans" taking in part of the tapestry of the Mexican border. Others were families from surrounding miles of lonely ranchland. Most had never seen a bullfight.
What they saw last week at the Santa Maria bullring wasn't a classic bullfight, with a half-ton animal weakened by lances and barbs but still capable of killing the matador with each pass at his cape before being killed himself.

By U.S. law, there can be no blood and no kill, only a final swipe by the matador to remove a rose attached to the back of the bull. Without the lancing during the picador phase, known as the Tercio de Varas, the bulls must be smaller.

But the essence of the bullfight is retained, owner Fred Renk said, and spectators are able to experience the dance of man against beast, which he said is as ancient as the walls of Crete.
Renk, 71, inaugurated the 30-foot ring at his ranch 60 miles northwest of McAllen in 2002. He named it for his patron saint and installed a small prayer chapel for the matadors under the stands.
It was the realization of a dream dating back to his own days in Mexico City, when he abandoned plans to become a priest in favor of becoming a bullfighter. He fought as a novillero, or novice bullfighter below the rank of matador, from 1958 to 1967.

His son, 44-year-old David, made full matador in 1981 and earned respect even in the most snobbish of bullfighting circles as El Texano. He was the sixth U.S. matador in history and the only American to confirm that status in Mexico City's La Plaza Mexico, the largest bullring in the world.
 
Tragedy hit in 2005, when he slipped during a fight and the bull stepped on his chest. His most recent open heart surgery was three months ago. It is unknown whether he will ever fight again.

But here in deep South Texas, the bullring has thrived. In addition to exhibition fights (there are two more this season, on Sunday and Feb. 10), the arena serves as a bullfighting school. The ranch is the first in the United States to breed the prized mateo bloodline, Renk said.

On corrida dates, the ranch house is a festive gathering place for current and former matadors and their fans.

The walls inside are covered with bullfighting posters and photos of bullfighters, including both the elder and younger Renks.

Fernando Corral, a 76-year-old former bullfighter from Mexico City, is a frequent guest.

"Bullfighting is an art, it's a philosophy, it's a way of life," Corral said. "It has culture, it has beauty."
At the event last week, Sherwood tried to explain bullfighting to the crowd.

"It isn't a sport," he said over the loudspeaker. "A sport is a competition between people for a goal. A brave bull will attack without provocation and kill anything in its path. What we are going to do with this is make art with it."

Or not.

The first of the afternoon's roster of bulls stood dully, looking confused and only vaguely aware of being egged on by the matadors and the piped music. After a time, they decided to move on to the other bulls and had to push the reluctant one out with the tractor and a lasso.

The other three bulls showed more spirit.

Matador Longinos Mendoza, a banker from Houston who learned the art at Santa Maria, won two (preserved) bulls' ears (accolades for a good fight) for his cape swirls and dodges against one bull and another ear for his performance with a second.

Enrique Delgado, the "cyclone" from Monterrey, Mexico, drew a standing ovation for a set of passes known as a serpentine.

Corral, the veteran matador, was relieved to hear the "Olés!" from the crowd after the disappointment of the first bull. He said it recalled his misgivings some years ago over bloodless fights, as unfit bulls would have been screened out in early phases.

"When I was invited, I didn't want to come. I thought it was phooey," Corral said. "But I was very impressed. Very, very impressed. It's a different thing from Mexico, but it's still toreo."

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http://www.chron.com/news/houston-texas/article/South-Texas-town-fills-bleachers-with-bloodless-1543052.php

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