Juan Ortega y Langosto honor the lineage of the exquisite in Santander

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The echo of the tragedy that was not still hung in the air, and people pointed to where it could have been and looked to see if they could find the shadow of Roca Principe nailed to the barrier. Like the silhouettes that were left in Hiroshima. The bullfight the day after came to erase the winds of terror with a delicious and delicate piece by Juan Ortega, the triumph of good work with a bull that also honored his lineage: Lobster. And that big door was shared by the contagious joy of Ginés Marín, who here has a parish that unconditionally expected his inclusion. Talavante was left on foot and alone, with his offended sadness. Analyzing what was seen later, it is difficult to understand even if the presidential decision can be explained. Everything happened on a good run from Puerto de San Lorenzo-La Ventana del Puerto. Everything and, above all, what is important: the exquisite and memorable dance of Ortega y Langosto.

Juan Ortega wielded the subtlety of the chosen ones with a bull that was also pure delicatessen. Lobster did not fail his lineage. And Ortega did not disappoint the genealogy of the tree of the exquisite. The task released, from the prologue, the rhythm of bullfighting in step, like the winged galleo that had sprouted from chicuelinas. When the bull was already overturning his class in the flights that drew infinite silk eights. In that silky tune, the beginning strewn with trenches and signature passes the path to the outskirts. The cadence beat in that everything that came with the cellophane of the bullfighting. Bullfighting surrounds everything. The imperfections for those who put the perfect before the feeling. Langosto was missing a little step and Juan was missing it. The pulse of work was growing. And the work itself too. To find himself on different terrains, without that unity that did give him harmony. Because everything that Ortega proposed brought that beauty, whether it was the chained pinwheels or the ones served with so much flavor. Some mismatches caused by leaving the crutch dead, so slow that it fell asleep, did not go beyond lightness. That the sword, even fallen, turned with its effectiveness into a large erta. Nothing had happened with a low-profile bull, very worn on the horse and sticky in his good-natured gait. Then everything that had to happen already happened.

A deep, plump and lustrous bull finished off his good deeds with a gorgeous face. From the iron of La Ventana -as 2nd and 6th- to open the run of El Puerto. He galloped with a remarkable stride, aimed for quick fixation and humbled with style, planning on the easy cloak of Alejandro Talavante. He brought down with momentum and thrust on the horse. While they tried to lift the jaco, Talavante showed off for chicuelinas, one looking at the line before the graceful half. The condition of the bull did not last long, long enough for AT to spark illusions with a mixed prologue, a natural series of good and light strokes and a round of forehands of the same cut. From there the onslaught began to stop before time. The second part of the task consisted of pulling more of the plumb trip. An end of help from below, happy and bullfighter -much more than the espaldina shot there-, gave rise to a lunge with which the bull was put to death. The possible request cooled down and did not take shape. The president ignored the handkerchiefs and everything ended in an ovation collected with some anger by the bullfighter.

The anger of Alejandro Talavante acquired the rank of anger when the box also became enshrined in the massive request for the second ear of the room, when it was no longer a question of counting handkerchiefs but of imposing a criterion. He could have opted for the compensation law the gentleman used, but he did not consider it as an option. The bull from Puerto de San Lorenzo tamed a lot, spat on horses and finally took the rods in the querencia, which would be the field of slaughter. Noted these notes of his somewhat crazy meekness, I liked the bull how he took the crutch and stretched after it when Talavante ordered it. Or he ordered himself, which also. The roundest series arose when he left it on his gloomy face and tied his right hands with demand and true lace. What did not always happen. I remembered Enrique Ponce, of whom we remember little, and of all his successes with this cattle ranch. And I projected it with this same batch. And I think it would have dispelled the doubts that Talavante left in the obstinate president. That he will be able to explain himself but it will be difficult to understand him seen from behind the comparative grievance.

Ginés Marín drove his people crazy, the Santanderinos, with the embedded and spelled sixth. Willing to start what had not been with a third party who lacked a lot, finals above all, in a painstaking job. The last task, from the start on the knees to the finish by bernadinas, had the clear objective of victory, determination and vibration above other things such as lightness or fit. When he buried the sword of the superb volapié, after a puncture, the public unleashed his madness. He gave up the box and Talavante looked misunderstood.

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