On 29 August, 1947, a bull and a millionaire killed each other in the unfashionable Andalucian city of Linares. What followed was a wave of national mourning which startled the whole of Spain by its intensity. Manuel Rodriguez Sanchez (“Manolete”) was a bullfighter who won universal reverence … but at a price.
EVERY industry which lives off public money needs fads and sensations (think Bad Bunny, and cast your mind back to Gazza).
By stirring up the punters’ interest, the cynical men who trouser the cheques get to sell a lot of tickets.
So they create this year’s exciting novelty, just as they created The Monkees. Or Miley Cyrus.
It’s the same with bullfighting.
There’s a name for a young matador who uses flashy tricks to whip up a gullible following – they call him a ‘tremendista’.
By the early 1940s, bullfighting was in a slump: the big stars had retired (Belmonte, El Gallo) or were dead (Joselito, El Gitanillo). Then along came Manolete.
Before we go any further, a quick word on Spanish surnames and nicknames.
Every Spaniard uses two surnames – his father’s, followed by his mother’s. Both surnames are used on any formal occasion.
So, if Manolete got married, the certificate would bear the name: Manuel Rodriguez Sanchez.
For everyday use, most Spaniards make do with their paternal name – in this case, Manuel Rodriguez.
Pop stars, bullfighters and assorted celebrities want a name that grabs attention (in Spain it’s known as a name that’s llamativo – it calls out to you).
Manuel Rodriguez Sanchez is as dull a moniker as it’s possible to imagine: it’s worse than John Smith. S
So they jazzed it up by renaming him ‘Manolete’.
One curious aspect of bullfighting and machismo is that the human ‘offers’ his manhood as a target for the bull to contemplate.
The man’s unprotected groin spends a large proportion of the corrida within inches of the animal’s horns.
Then there’s the Spanish concept of ‘a good death’.
Some of it comes from Holy Week – lots of towns have a procession dedicated to ‘Christ of the Good Death’ – but it goes even deeper.
There’s something melancholy in the Spanish soul which yearns for an exit from life which is heroic, which makes a big splash.
Listen to the old folks, talking of some villager executed during the Civil War: they always end with: “Pedro died a good death.”
Manolete was a dirt-poor gypsy from Cordoba.
He was an athletic teenager with a brooding, glum look (his face had been scarred early by some random bull).
He was willing to take risks to get money (to his mortification, his two sisters were working as prostitutes, and he wanted to rescue them).
His managers saw the potential. Manolete could be the new sensation.
A matador needs to watch the bull’s horns at all times. Those two lethal weapons are his greatest enemies.
He can let them pass within a centimetre of his waistcoat or as close as he likes, but it’s the man who makes the decision.
Manolete’s team came up with the ‘winning’ idea of passing the bull while staring at the crowd.
It was suicidal, but Manolete tried it – and it worked.
Suddenly, ‘mirando al pueblo’ was on everybody’s lips. People were packing the bullrings to see the Cordoban madman who took his eyes off the bull as it charged.
The money came in, but it took its toll.
Always a man of nervous temperament, Manolete was afraid.
One day, he knew, the bull would flick its head sideways, and that would be the end of Manuel Rodriguez Sanchez.
But the crowds expected him to risk his life. They demanded it.
After ten years as a ‘tremendista’, he had accrued a fortune. But was it worth it?
In Linares, on the Friday afternoon of 29 August, Manolete did his usual ‘act’ with a bull named Islero.
The ‘mirando el pueblo’ pass went well, and the man squared the bull up and went in with the sword. As the bull fell, the cheers roared out. Manolete turned to take the applause.
But Islero wasn’t quite dead. He summoned enough strength to get up and gore his tormentor in the groin. Manolete (barely 30 years of age) was wounded.
Mortally.
Click here to read more Spain News from The Olive Press.
