Paso Doble Anyone?

Translated from the Spanish:

The Moment of Truth

In Haro, a small city in Spain. Eighteen year old Julian Lopez Escobar (El Juli) inches slowly, carefully towards the bull, unmindful of his chest covered with blood from letting the bull get too close as it goes by. The boy matador’s face is filled with tenderness as though approaching a child who has hidden under a table in tears: gentle, coaxing, head tilted to one side.

El Juli, in all his glory.

The bull is heaving for breath and drops its head in a gesture that appears to say: I understand, I am ready, proceed. El Juli draws back his sword and calls one last time, “VENGA, TORO!”

The bull charges, and the young matador strikes faster than a cobra — there is a flash of gold, and then he spins away graceful as a ballet dancer and opens his arms to his fans. His sword is buried in the back of the bull’s neck down into its heart. The young matador’s face is respectful as the bull buckles to the sand, folding gracefully into death.

There is an awed silence. Then cheers, the waving of handkerchiefs (symbolizing the audience’s respect,) the cascade of flowers (expressions of their love), the awarding of the bull’s ears to the smiling matador (to honor the boy’s excellence.) Finally El Juli is carried in triumph from the bullring on the shoulders of the very strongest men of Haro, lifted like a true hero.

This is not Paso Doble.