In 1933, Federico García Lorca gave a conference in Buenos Aires under the title Theory and game of the duende that began like this: "The duende is a power and not an act, it is a fight and not a thought...in bullfights it acquires its most impressive, because he has to fight, on the one hand with death, which can destroy him, and on the other hand with geometry, with measurement, the fundamental basis of the party”.
Lorca did not see Morante de la Puebla fight, of course, but if he had seen him, he surely would have included him in this paragraph of the aforementioned conference: “Lizard with his Roman leprechaun; Joselito and his Jewish leprechaun; Belmonte with his baroque duende and Cagancho with his gypsy duende”. It remains to be guessed what type of goblin would be that the poet would attribute to the genius of La Puebla, but there is no doubt that Morante is a bullfighter with a goblin.
With duende and bad luck in the draws (this year at the April Fair was the exception), as happened on his first afternoon in San Isidro and the one who opened the square today, who did not have a pass and lasted a breath. Morante sighed and we all sighed because the room would at least allow him to “goblin” a little. And it happened that El Juli entered his turn to remove, by low hand chicuelinas and Morante replied with four verónicas like four soles and two sublime media.
The opening of the slaughter had the bullfighting of some helped by high rancid flavor and Morante took the bull, of beautiful image, to the lands where the wind blew the least that, evening after afternoon, he comes punctual to his appointment in the wind. And there he drew rhythmic circles, smooth, pure caress. Duende, you were saying? Well, that. Alcurrucén's copy followed the crutch with nobility and while his breath lasted he allowed Morante his compass bullfighting, bundled up, which enters through the eyes and cheers the birds. He punctured before the lunge and the ovation that he greeted, solemn, hopefully it is the prelude to what is to come on his third date, on June 2.
El Juli, a consecrated figure and Tomás Rufo, young courage and hope for the future, are not bullfighters with duende and that is not a disgrace. Juli, if he did not miss with swords, was able to cut off an ear from each of his bulls and go out through the front door, because his two tasks to two bulls that seemed better in his hands had dedication and technique as a great virtue, which in this case they were complementary to achieve long-term crutches and with command in the square.
The first bull of Tomás Rufo's turn had the breed as his flag but the slaughter was uneven, with moments of coupling and others more intemperate and the wind doing its thing. The sixth offered fewer options and Rufo made the effort.
Las Ventas was filled again (23,798 capacity and several dozen in the alley) and, at the beginning, protest and complaint banners were displayed on the protest line. They hadn't seen each other for years, a sign of the party's vitality.
