carlos the impossible

8/9/2019 Carlos the Impossible

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CARLOSTHE

IMPOSSIBLE J.T.K. BELLE



Quer encia:

que·r en·ciaIPA: /ke'r enja/

f .(acción de quer er) fondness, aff ection(instinto de los animales) homing instinct

(guar ida) den, lair (nido) nest, roost

colloquial (hogar) home, nest, a bullf ighting bull's f avor ite s pot in the r ing

Etymology: from the ver b quer e (to desir e, to want).

³A bull¶s quer encia is the s pot in the bullr ing wher e the bull f eels saf est. Each bull willf ind its quer encia in a diff er ent place in the r ing, though not uncommonly near the gate

wher e it enter ed. As the bull tir es from the f ight, it will seek to r etur n again and again to this comfor t zone. The skilled matador will tur n the bull¶s quer encia to his own

advantage, lur ing the bull into a tenuous secur ity befor e pr e par ing for the f inal blow.´ ± Book of Bulls: The Official Matador¶s Handbook (2nd Ed)



³QUERENCIA IS THE MIRAGE OF A CORNER IN THE ROUNDNESS OF THE RING.´Her nando



1.

Once, outside of Ulysses, Kansas, by the banks of One Hundr ed Mile Cr eek, near the

sour ce of the Pequot River , in a slanted sunf lower f ield laid low by gr azing cattle, a bullcalf was bor n to the cow Esmer elda. The calf was lar ge, much lar ger than one mightex pect from its humble lineage. Later , as the legend gr ew, they would say the bull calf

was bor n with six-inch hor ns to the clanging of the near by chur ch bells. Or that itemer ged smolder ing from a r ibbon of dry heat lightning. Or even that this was no bull at

all, but the off s pr ing of Indian ele phant and Jer sey dairy cow. These types of a pocryphalswill attach themselves to budding legends and gather details like a tumbleweed of

untr uth. But her e now ar e the tr ue and sim ple f acts of this taur ine tale.Though lar ge, the bull calf was bor n sickly, at the Plum pkin Ranch, and soon

af terwar d, Esmer elda died of the bovine pox. The calf was milked with a bottle by attendant r anch hands and even by Plum pkin himself , who was a gentle soul and gr ew

attached to the over sized calf , holding its head in his hands as it str uggled to f ill its lungs.Plum pkin injected the calf with antibiotics mor ning and night, and by its twentieth day,

the calf was standing on its own, dr inking f ull buckets of milk and devour ing eight- pound bags of gr ain.

Its health r estor ed, the r anch hands watched the bull grow, gaining pounds andinches by the day. By six weeks it r eached twenty hands high. By ten weeks, it had

outgrown the calving pen. By six months, it stood as tall as a plow hor se. By two year s,from hor n to hoof , the animal tower ed over the smokehouse, its hulking fr ame casting a

shadow that s pr ead over the sunf lower s from the meadow at the near side of OneHundr ed Mile Cr eek to the limestone bluff on its f ar ther side.

The bull was named Son of Car leton af ter the seed bull, and the r anch handscame, with some irony, to call him by the diminutive Car lito, and then mor e of ten, and

less ironically, Big Car l.Cor nelius Plum pkin calculated the poundage and counted the money in his head.

Enough, he ex pected, to pay for an entir e winter ¶s ex penses.When the day came²the day Big Car l was led to the slaughter house to be

destroyed²the f ar mer took measur e of his im pending for tune with a mixtur e of wonder and r emor se.

What a magnif icent animal to have to pay for the winter ¶s bills, he thought. Butwhat else to do?

The propr ietor of the slaughter house was equally bemused by the giant bull,though he frowned when the chute scale cr um pled under Big Car l¶s weight. And so an

agr eement on the weight was made without an off icial r ecor ding.Without a hint of f ear , Big Car l walked the ste ps to the door of shed number f ive,

wher e the stunner gun was loaded with bolts. The shot was f ir ed. Big Car l did not f all.The stunner was r eloaded, and another shot f ir ed. Still standing, Big Car l tilted his head,

eyed the stunner with innocence and sus picion, squinted. Two bullets now sat lodged inhis head, above his lef t eye, beneath the root of the hor n.

The stunner proceeded through the process, as he had done a thousand times, as itwas always done befor e. He thr ust his long knif e forwar d to the carotid, wher e it scr a ped



on Big Car l¶s hide and swerved sharply sideways. Recoiling, the hand tr ied again, mor efor cef ully this time. The knif e sna pped at the middle of the sheath and f ell clanging on

the tile f loor .This bull cannot be killed, the slaughter house man said.

The men star ed at Car l and Car l star ed back at them, by his sidelong look

sym pathizing with their conf usion and disa ppointment.With nothing else to do, the r ancher led Big Car l back into the cattle tr uck anddrove him home to the slanting sunf lower f ield beside One Hundr ed Mile Cr eek, wher e

the bull s pent the following year idly gr azing on bluestems and watching gently f lowingwater s pass between the limestone bluff s and pr ess on down to the mighty Pequot River .

And then one day, a man arr ived at Cor nelius Plum pkin¶s door .

I hear you have a lar ge bull, the man said.Yes, said Plum pkin.

A very lar ge bull, the man said.As big as a smokehouse, said Plum pkin.

The man introduced himself as Douglas Button, a rodeo promoter from KansasCity. Plum pkin led Button to the f ield wher e the bull stood on a r ise, ecli psing the

af ter noon sun as the men a pproached. The closer they cr e pt, the dar ker the sk y became,until Button r ealized it was the shadow cast by the bull that enveloped the width of the

sunf lower f ield.What a magnif icent s pecimen, Button gas ped. I¶d like to br ing him to Kansas

City. To the rodeo.He won¶t buck, said Plum pkin.

He¶s four thousand pounds if he¶s a f eather , Button said. He could lie on his belly in the shade and they¶d still come from miles to see him.

Car l sensed them ther e. He was used to being s pied. He sideste pped slightly andtur ned his head to see them, allowing the sun to r ise slowly over the hor izon of his

shoulder s. Button took in the enor mity of the animal.My goodness, he said.

In Kansas City, the crowds did come at f ir st. Car l was less accommodating than

Button had hoped. Without bucking, ther e was little other than Car l¶s size to promote² no br ave r ider s to dr aw a story line, no narr ative to sell. They did not, in f act, come from

miles just to see the giant bull sitting in the shade. The sums the rodeos wer e willing to pay declined in shor t or der .

I have another idea, Button said to Plum pkin.And what is that?

Bullf ighting.Bullf ighting?

Think of the dr aw! At the rodeo?

No, in Mexico. I know an agent in Mexico City.And who would f ight this bull?

Someone will.He can¶t be fought, Plum pkin said, shaking his head. He hasn¶t the tem per ament.



It would be f utile. And one-sided.

Eventually, of cour se, the bull would f ight. How else could it be? Yes, this bullwould f ight, in a way.

They said Car los was br ed to f ight. Not tr ue. Car los was not br ed to f ight.

Fighting bulls wer e br ed for cour age, which to the man with the ca pe is entwined with pr edictability. Knowing just how the bull will come to him is the only thing that stands between the matador and his death.

Car los never knew f ear to over come. Cour age was Car los¶s natur e.When a f ighting bull¶s cour age is f inally taken² when the bull is wor n down by

the tor eros, exhausted and r esigned to its f ate in the r ing²it will go to its quer encia, thats pot wher e the bull f eels saf est, wher e it will r etur n, pr edictably, wher e the matador will

have to lur e him forwar d to deliver the f inal, f atal blow.Car l possessed a calm that betr ayed his quer encia wher ever he went. From Kansas

to R onda to Mexico City, Car los the Im possible, as he would become known, wouldalways f ind his quer encia her e, in a sloping sunf lower f ield, beside the gently f lowing

water s of One Hundr ed Mile Cr eek, near the sour ce of the Pequot River .



2.Her nando des pair ed the new age of bullf ighting: younger men (younger than he), without

technique but f ull of br avado, f ighting ever smaller bulls br ed for ease in poor ly or chestr ated contests. Wor st of all was the delegating, the wear ing down of the bulls to

the bander illeros. All while commanding enor mous sums for f ancy ca pe wor k and little

mor e. Gone wer e the days of Arr uza, his hero; Jamie Br avo, his mentor; and Manolete,oh Manolete! Of ten he thought to himself , I am the last of a dying breed, the last of the true

matadors. When he was a younger man it mightn¶t have bother ed him, but Her nando was

now thir ty-f ive year s old. And these younger men with their lesser skills wer e ear ningnear ly equal his wages, a king¶s r ansom in this age, tr icking uneducated crowds into

believing them wor thy of it.Fighting bulls had made Her nando a r ich man but cost him a marr iage (a br ief

one, to a star let of TV Azteca), the services of his agents and manager s (none lasted mor ethan a year), and countless fr iendshi ps (hanger s-on, who needed them?). Now the

news pa per s called him a ladies¶ man, Don Juan; they said his emer ald gr een eyeshypnotized the ladies and the bulls with equal r ewar ds. But he was ha ppier with the bulls.

Her nando eyed the crowd. Half of Mexico City it seemed was in attendance. Thedr unks in the sun seats huh-huh¶d as the bulls stirr ed in their pens²the two matches

befor e his had not satisf ied their a ppetite for dr ama. They wanted only to see the master .Her nando, the Legend of the Fiesta Br ava.

Tr uth be told, he des pised them, mostly. He of ten com plained to anyone listeningthat nine of every ten in the Plaza did not under stand. They did not under stand the

tr agedy that unfolded befor e their eyes, did not com pr ehend the no ble act for itsintentions. Did not a ppr eciate the diff er ence between a cour ageous bull and a diff icult

bull, did not awar d him ear s or hooves based on anything mor e than a f ew f lour ishes of the ca pe and a f ew pr edictable passes.

Give me one-tenth the ticket sales, he would say, and for get the r est. We would all be ha ppier .

Befor e each corr ida, when he knelt to pr ay to the Vir gin of the Macar ena, hewould genuf lect casually and ask the Lady not for Her protection and a well-behaved bull

with cour age and broad shoulder s, but only for a knowledgeable crowd and a windlessday.

Her nando¶s bloodline was s pilled in the sand by a long f amily history of middling

matador s. His gr eat-gr andf ather , who was called El Gaucho, was known for his luck andr ecklessness until he was gor ed near ly to death by the bull Ozomatzin and became a

shoemaker in Aguascalientes. His gr andf ather El Za patero was killed by the blue roanZorr ito, which his f ather Juan then had beheaded and mounted above the television in the

f amily home wher e it star ed down over Her nando¶s tr uculent youth like a mounted Sir encalling the boy to the bulls. Juan, who went by El Pescador , fought for f if teen year s, f ir st

as a picador , then in f er ias in the south, then in the bloodless f ights for the cr uise shi p tour ists in Baja, befor e r etir ing to the guava or char ds of R onda.

From a young age Her nando was possessed of a ser iousness, an ar tf ulness, notconf err ed by the Ages on his lineage. He was, they said, touched by the Taur ine Fates,



r aised u p from mediocr ity by the angels of the corr ida. Even now, at the sunset of hisgr eat car eer , these ex pectations weighed on him, punctuated his every victory with a

linger ing question mar k. How much closer to the hor ns can you go? How many ear s,hooves, and tails ar e enough? What mor e can you give them befor e br avery tur ns to

foolishness and luck tur ns cold? Who can outr un the hor izon?

It is tr ue, the story they tell, that in his youth he fought two bulls at once. This wasdur ing the Fer ia de la Exuber ancia Juvenile af ter a poor season when he f elt the need to do something gr and, something to r edeem his lesser effor ts of the year befor e. Now in the

towns around R onda, wher e he was bor n, they will look you in the eyes and tell you hestood in their very plaza de toros with ten bulls at once, and tell you they wer e blessed to

witness it. What br avery, what honor! Her nando!

He would ear n ninety thousand pesos for this f ight. Mor e and mor e, he found himself alone in the r ing with the bull, thinking not of the pr e par ations, or the pacing of the

veronicas, or the tendencies of the bull as it came at the ca pe, but of his newest home inZihuatanejo, high on a bluff over looking the war m Pacif ic. Another year of this, another

house. The next one in Cabo San Lucas, possibly a penthouse in the city. Gr anitecounter tops in the chef ¶s kitchen. Par quet f loor ing«

In his pr ime²and the dr unks in the sun seats would ar gue he was past it²hewould have chased these thoughts from his mind in an instant to concentr ate only on the

bull. But af ter twenty year s in bullf ighting plazas from Tijuana to Cozumel, he sensedthat he was growing bor ed. The challenge was diminished. His statur e was assur ed.

Per ha ps, just per ha ps, it was time to ² The bull char ged out from the callejon and through the gate conf idently.

Smoothed sand kicked u p under its hooves. This one was a f ine animal. From the f amedDon Fausto Meza br eeding r anch in Tlaxcala. Full of cour age and, his men assur ed him,

this bull galloped str aight and tr ue as a tr ain on r ails. Per ha ps a little smallish, but thick-necked, broad-shoulder ed, with hor ns s pr ead wide and curved forwar d. His glassy pelt

waved over sun-dr enched muscle and shimmer ed in the af ter noon sun.Her nando¶s focus r etur ned, his senses heightened. The old instincts f looded back ;

he smelled the car nitas of the vendor s walking the tendidos, hear d the hor ses' quickening br eath and the peanut shells hitting the dusty f loor boar ds, saw the pr esidente of the Plaza

whis per ing to his com panion in the owner ¶s box, as the late af ter noon sun f aded throughthe thin br eeze, r aising the shaven hair s on the back of his neck.

Through the Fir st Act, Her nando cr itiqued the wor k of the peónes who r an the bull about, waving ca pes and testing the animal¶s bear ings. F ine, thought Her nando,

nothing peculiar with this one. As the picador s a pproached on hor seback, the bull pawedat the sand, then char ged. With a thud, the Tlaxcalan put his lef t hor n u p into the padded

belly of a picador ¶s hor se. The hor se sideste pped, and then f ell. Shuff ling peónes with athick black tarp quickly cover ed it over . Af ter this, the picador s had little diff iculty,

wounding the snor ting Tlaxcalan with sever al sharp thr usts of the lances into the thick muscle between the shoulder s.

In the Second Act, Her nando, f ull of theatr ics, set the bander illas himself , jum ping, stabbing dee p into the shoulder muscle with two heavy f ists, then dancing away

to the delight of the crowd. The colorf ul sticks bo bbed from the animal¶s back and f ell atits f lanks as it ski pped forwar d, snor ting and coughing in the dir ection of the gr eat



matador who walked on his toes, head high, back tur ned, hand on hi p, away from thewounded bull.

By the Thir d Act, the bull had slowed, its head held low, drooping, its bulgingshoulder muscles ex posed, near ly s pent but not yet r eady for the swor d.

Each pass yielded a thunderous Olé! The bull passed, galloping mor e slowly, but

r equir ed little goading.Olé!Another pass. And another .

Olé!Olé!

Her nando stood, f eet together , pulling the muleta back gr acef ully, as the bull¶shor ns glided past his navel. The Tlaxcalan slowed f ur ther still, and r etr eated towar d the

gate on the f ar side of the r ing, seeking what Her nando called ³that mir age of a cor ner inthe roundness of the r ing´: its quer encia.

Her nando paused for the benef it of the crowd.Take him, Hernando!

He¶s ready, Great One!Her nando allowed the bull to gather its cour age²he sensed the bull pr e par ing

itself for the denouement. He pushed the muleta forwar d, slowly, clicking his tongue. Hewaited patiently, pulling gently again and again at the smaller ca pe, allowing the calls

from the crowd to grow louder .This will ear n him a tail, he thought. His thir d of the season.

The bull lunged. Her nando stood on his toes and pr esented the swor d with hissignatur e ar ching of the back (they called this ³the Her nando´), befor e he ste pped

forwar d and plunged the swor d high between the shoulder s of the exhausted bull. With asnor t, the animal f ell to its knees and colla psed forwar d, a little fountain of blood r ising

from its back and s pilling into the sand as Her nando leaned-to and s pr ead his ar ms likewinged victory, and the crowd er u pted with chants of his name.

Af ter the corr ida, Her nando and his men r etir ed to dr ink tequila at Caf é La Mancha and

discuss the day¶s events.The matador was asked by a peóne about the other f ighter s of the day. Her nando

was r eluctant at f ir st, but he had been dr inking double shots, and when his tongue issuff iciently loosened he cannot stop it from betr aying his tr ue thoughts.

What did you think of Or donez today, matador? the peóne asked.Or donez? the matador huff ed. Without f lair , and he knows nothing of bulls. Did

you notice how he went to the bull in its quer encia? Shee pish. Like a schoolboy to as panking.

And Jimenez? Technically com petent, but cowar dly at times. Terr ible with the kill. He will soon

need a longer swor d to r each the bull! This went on. Names of other matador s of the day provided, Her nando r es ponded

quickly, batting back each name with candid der ision.Tito Suar ez? A bor e.

La R osa? Awk war d, angular , like a cactus with ha ppy f eet.Villacor ta? He dances like a chicken.



Diego Caron? Br ave, I su ppose, but stu pid. He will be dead inside a year .And how do you r ate your perfor mance today, matador?

Her nando paused and consider ed the question with a frown.Aver age, he f inally r e plied, with a casual wave of the hand. The bull today was on

the small side for my liking. They ar e br ed too small these days. Br eed them lar ger , I say.

We will see who r emains in the r ing then. Ther e is not a bull alive I cannot handle.Her nando¶s wor ds hung in the air . The peóne squinted and tur ned the tequila bottle in his hand.

I¶m sur e that is the tr uth, the peóne said slowly. And since it is, ther e is somethingyou should know.

Yes? Ther e is a bull f ighting in the south.

Fighting? If you ar e a bull you f ight only once.Jar i peos, the peóne said. And str eet f ights. All manner of amateur s. They say he

r an the Humanatlada, then fought in Sincelejo the following day. I under stand he is now r unning in the ca peas in your hometown of R onda. This bull has fought ten times and

killed thir ty-nine men.Ten times? What do you take me for?

It¶s tr ue. They say he is as big as a cathedr al.Ha!

And made of stone.Ther e is no such bull.

They say the ear th moves under his hooves.Do they?

I assur e you, it¶s quite tr ue. This comes from Caron¶s men.Caron?

Yes. He intends to f ight the bull. He says the ca peas of R onda ar e no place for such a beast. I¶m sur e you¶ll agr ee. Diego Caron is in negotiations with the owner of the

bull. He will promote him to the Plaza and kill him honor ably.Caron is a child and a ca pe waver . If this bull is as diff icult as you say, he will be

gor ed befor e the tr um pet blows.I tell you, jef e, he is a beast. This bull is invincible.

A week passed. The stor ies f illed Caf é La Mancha nightly, passing from table to table,

the tumbleweed growing lar ger . ²This bull they call Car los f ights in the ca peas. Haveyou been to R onda to see? ²No, but he killed a cousin of my wif e. They say he took off

and swallowed the poor bastar d¶s ar m. ²And still the bull lives? ²He goes on f ighting,he can¶t be killed. ²He¶s tall as an ele phant, with a hide twice as thick. ²Did you hear?

Diego Caron has been to see him, he intends to br ing him to Mexico City. To the Plaza.Another week. Mor e stor ies of the giant bull passed through the smoke-f illed

cantina. ²Caron has been to R onda. ²And? ²They say he is having second thoughts.When Her nando had hear d enough of Caron¶s name f loating in the stale, hazy air ,

he clenched his teeth, made a f ist, and slammed it to the counter top.Find me this bull¶s owner! he yelled. I will guar antee him ten times Caron¶s pr ice.

I will do this as a f avor to Caron, to s par e his lif e, and as a gif t to the aff icianados who deserve the r etur n of honor to the corr ida. And their money¶s wor th at that!



The following evening, Button a ppear ed. Standing in the doorway of Her nando¶s

villa in Las Lomas, str aw cow boy hat atop his head, knowing twinkle in his eye. Hesmiled a toothy smile.

Over iced tea in the madrone- paneled dr awing room, Button told Her nando of the

bull. I am told this bull is big as a cathedr al, Her nando said.Two thousand kilos, give or take, Button said, nodding.

Im possible! So he¶s been called. I don¶t blame you for your ske pticism. You must see him to

believe it.These ar e the tales of dr unks stumbling home from the f estivals.

Ha! Well, ther e ar e enough of those.And so they ar e tr ue, then? These r e por ts? He has killed f if ty men?

The number is twenty-thr ee. But don¶t be fooled, this is no Miur a bull. A giant,yes, but he is somewhat passive. Most wer e tr am pled crossing under him like calves.

Tr am pled? How many gor ed? Only two have been gor ed, and only as they went for his eyes.

What you say disgusts me. The ca peas ar e for butcher s and cowar ds.I agr ee. This bull belongs in the Plaza.

With a prof essional. To have the f ight brought out of him. To die no bly at thehands of a tr ue matador .

Well, then, matador . Do we have a deal? Her nando put his f inger s to his cheek and scr atched u pwar d absentmindedly

against his day¶s bear d.Why do you a pproach me and not the em pr esar ios? he asked sharply. It would be

mor e proper .I¶ve found the em pr esar ios r eluctant on the basis ther e is not a matador with nerve

enough to f ight this bull. They say only the senseless and the dr unk young machos in theca peas have such nerve. Caron has, how shall I put it? Reconsider ed. And so, like a good

producer , I must f ir st secur e a star befor e selling this show. If you agr ee, I have no doubtthe Plaza will be most pleased to host our event.

Her nando nodded distr actedly as he consider ed his f ate as savior of the FiestaBr ava.

It will be an honor to kill this bull, Her nando said at last with a f ar away look inhis emer ald eyes.

And so the deal was str uck. It was arr anged that the em pr esar io for the Plaza Mexico

would buy the giant bull from Button for Her nando to f ight. Come the Fiesta de la Fuer zaIrr esistible, the Gr eat One would meet the bull that was bor n of a thunder cla p at the gr eat

r anch of Plum pkin with six-inch hor ns as smoke pour ed from his caver nous nostr ils, the bull that could not be killed in a Kansas slaughter house, the bull who had taken a hundr ed

lives in the ca peas of R onda with not a drop of his own blood s pent in the effor t, the bullwho they said would not quite f it through El Ar co de Cabo, and had come by now to be

known to the af icionados as Car los the Im possible.



3.They came by Metro, they came by bus. They came on foot and in white-topped Beetle

taxis, dr inking from cola bottles and smoking puros and f anning themselves with broad- br immed hats and taur ine magazines. A swelling crowd of af icionados, f if ty thousand in

all, snaked towar d the bull-statued gates to the Plaza Mexico. Everywher e they looked,

on stor efronts and bus stops and bulletin boar ds in mar ket squar es, hung r ed and yellow poster s that cr ied:

HERNANDOWITH THE GIANT BULL OF PLUMPKIN!

ORDONEZ AND SUAREZ

WITH THE BULLS OF DON FAUSTO MEZA

The f at-letter ed poster s showed Her nando enveloped in shadow, his emer ald eyestr ansf ixed on the enor mity of the passing bull, lef t hor n br ushing his thigh, ca pe held out

on a stiff r ight ar m, his f eet locked f ir mly to the sand.Five o¶clock in the af ter noon. Mur mur s cir cled u p and around the gr eat

am phitheatr e. A br ass band stirr ed. As the sun crossed over the roof of the u pper standsand held dir ectly above them, thr ee gold-suited matador s stood in the r ing, f lanked by

their men²Her nando center most, to the delight of the ex pectant af icionados.While Her nando dr ank in a long ovation, Car los stood u p in his too-small pen

beneath the pulsating Plaza stands and listened as the br ass band str uck u p a pasodo ble.He liked the sound of the tuba best. Of all the noises that came in that paseo music, it was

the low boom of the tuba that lif ted him most. The music came in through the ceilingabove him as it r attled with the foot tr aff ic of the thousands taking their places in the

shaded seats. Dust f ell on his back and he shook it off with a swi pe of his tail.The pasodo ble ended.

Tr um pets blew.And then every f ew moments, a dar k-eyed man under a f elt sombr ero descended

the long r am p to the corr als beneath the stands and let loose another bull from another pen that would char ge in a cr aze u p the r am p and into the ar ena.

Whenever this ha ppened, Car los hear d tr um pets give way to mild a pplause, then ahandf ul of scatter ed Olés, and then again mild a pplause.

Soon enough, the man a pproached Car los¶s pen with a gr imace and r adiated adesir e to r etr eat. The man steeled himself dee p in his boots and gently slid back the r ust-

chi pped gate bolt. The gate swung open with a loud cr eak and the man called loudly,Huh-huh! over his shoulder as he scam per ed u p the r am p and sli pped back into the ar ena.

Car los squeezed through the opening and double-ste pped u p the r am p towar d thesunshine and the sound of the tr um pets.

As the tr um pets blew, the crowd stood, cr aning necks and leaning on toes towar dthe callejon. When Car los r eached the top of the r am p he paused in the gate jamb (which

had been widened just so, to let pass his hulking fr ame) and slid through it slowly,scr a ping his shoulder s as he went. When at last he emer ged from the shaded chute, his

shadow unf ur led befor e him like a Za potec r ug cast onto the or ange sand and into thecenter of the gr eat theatr e.



The crowd gas ped at f ir st sight of the giant bull.Que enorme! they cr ied as he came f ar ther from the shadows.

I t is true, they exclaimed, as he strode into the sunlight. He is a monster! He must be an elephant! they declar ed as Car los settled into the r ing, twenty ste ps

from the gate, tur ning his head from side to side, the better to size the titter ing crowd.

Their loyalty was paid for , but Her nando¶s men gr ew nervous. Their misgivings atsigning on to this event weighed heavily, des pite the doubling of their wages. For his par t, the matador gr ew only mor e conf ident as Car los¶s shadow dr ew forwar d to engulf

him in the unshaded half of the bullr ing.Your head will look fine above my television, toro, Her nando thought to himself .

F orever from this day, they will talk of the glorious afternoon the Great Hernando took down the impossible bull.

Someone, a jour nalist from the local pa per in R onda, or possibly it was El Norte,once asked him the secr et of his ways. Her nando would not divulge it, not to a

jour nalista, not to a lover; but to the men in his cuadr illa he would ta p the side of his headwith two f inger s and declar e, It is sim ple, boys² you have only to think like a bull.

And so as the giant beast stood ther e, long white hor ns like a cr escent moonecli psing the af ter noon sun, he tur ned his head from side to side and Her nando wonder ed,

What are you thinking, toro? Car los did not char ge. He took in his surrounding with a calm conf idence,

tr anquilly noting the men with the ca pes shuff ling nervously ahead of him. He scannedthe height of the Plaza befor e him and walked himself around in a tight cir cle to survey

his r ear . Car los sensed this was no ca pea, but r ather something much mor e« pleasant.A peóne leaned into Her nado¶s shoulder and said quietly, I don¶t like this,

matador .Her nando¶s eyes r emained f ixed on the giant bull. Settle the hor ses, he said in his

cold calm way.Car los walked another tight cir cle. No, this was not like the ca peas, with their

unstr uctur ed violence and fr enzied mo bs. No silly young men dar ting across co bblestonealleys and huh-huh¶ing over their shoulder s as they skitter ed past his hor ns. Ther e was a

r hythm to this, a pr ecision, if awk war d and unclear in its point. Nonetheless, the Fir st Act was f utile. The terr if ied peónes with their quiver ing

ca pes f ailed to discer n anything of use about the bull¶s tendencies. I t¶s no use, jefe! they cr ied. He won¶t run.

The picador s¶ effor ts came to much the same. Which is to say, they f ailed to damage the animal, f ailed to so much as br eak his hide with their lances, f ailed utter ly to

incense the unf la ppable Car los at all. To the o bservant af icionados, the bull seemedmer ely cur ious of the goings on: the thick- padded hor ses pr ancing in the r ing, the men

with long pics mounted atop them, thr usting them towar d him awk war dly and from too gr eat a distance, the lone man with br ight gr een eyes standing near the sideboar ds sizing

him u p, taking him in.Send the horses closer.

The awk war dness multi plied as the hor ses pulled u p shor t, r ef using to a pproachthe bull that dwarf ed them. The men saddled on their backs ur ged them forwar d and

sla pped them on their wither s, but still the hor ses r ef used, high-ste pping sideways andaway to the f ence.



Laughter cir cled the Plaza. Never mind the hor ses! Her nando called out.

Her nando came to the center of the r ing. A shower of hurr ahs gr eeted him ther e.Still, Car los still did not char ge. He came forwar d, leaned forwar d into a half ste p,

the better to see Her nando¶s eyes²emer ald gr een eyes that gr ew wide and electr ic and

dar ed him to r un.Olé! the dr unks shouted in mock celebr ation.Car los¶s eyes dilated like the blooming black rose.

Finally the bur ning intensity of the matador ¶s gr een glar e pulled Car los to him asthe giant bull f elt that old mystical im pulse and at last divined from Her nando¶s eyes that

to play his par t corr ectly he must come forwar d.Car los made a passive attem pt at a char ge.

And another .As Car los caught on to the cues, his char ges, deliber ate and r eserved, shook the

ear th, and with each measur ed pass, the Plaza crowd let out a ser ies of slow-rollingOooooooo-lés. Af ter sever al of these cautious passes at the ca pe, Her nando¶s conf idence

gr ew f ur ther . He inched closer to the gliding hor ns with each pass, for the benef it of thecrowd and for the sake of the Fiesta¶s r edem ption.

Car los began to quicken the pace, sensing now what was ex pected of him.Olé!

Take him wide, Hernando!But no. This was too sloppy. Her nando r esigned himself then to kill the bull

quickly and for ego any f ur ther domination with such gr aceless passes. When Car loslower ed his head, Her nando plunged the swor d as best he could into the giant bull¶s back,

high u p between the shoulder s in the s pot they call the mor illo, which r equir ed a little jum p ste p, an unf latter ing concession to the scale of the beast. The swor d bowed in the

middle, then broke at the ti p and sna pped u pwar d into the air , hanging for a moment inthe held br eath of the puzzled crowd, then landed ten paces from Her nando¶s f eet af ter

those f eet had touched down again on the sand.Fif ty thousand mouths went all aga pe.

Non plussed, Her nando eyed the beast. Car los r emained still, looking u p only br ief ly into the sun seats wher e the dr unks laughed with swollen r ed f aces.

Thinking he¶d str uck bone, Her nando wi ped his brow with his silk suit sleeve,r etr ieved the damaged swor d, walked to the r elichero with his back to the bull and was

handed a r e placement, which he ins pected against the sideboar d with a heavy thwack,and then mar ched solemnly back towar d center r ing.

Car los followed the matador with his eyes.Her nando took position, inciting Car los again with the ca pe.

Car los walked towar d Her nando and made an effor t to catch the ca pe with hishor n. Emboldened, Her nando waved the ca pe again and ste pped around to Car los¶s r ear .

Cur ious, Car los cir cled with him. They did this slow hat dance sever al times, until thecrowd gr ew r estless.

Basta! they cr ied.To the end! they cr ied.

Lower ing the muleta, Her nando set Car los¶s head low and pr e par ed to plunge theswor d dee p between the shoulder blades. But when he did, again the swor d bowed and



sna pped, shooting u pwar d and out of the matador ¶s hands, ar cing end over end andf alling to the ground.

Her nando¶s invectives cir cled the r ing, echoing u p into the war m, still af ter noonair .

You will need an elephant gun! they cr ied.

From behind the barr er a wall, a dr unk tossed an em pty bottle that shatter ed in theouter r ing, causing both Car los and Her nando to tur n their heads at once. The bull¶s lef thor n caught Her nando high u p on the thigh and thr ew him u pside down through the air .

Blood s pr ayed into Car los¶s eyes as he hear d a shr iek and the matador ¶s body thum p to the sand.

Two peónes dar ted through the slits in the barr er a and pulled him towar d ther ailing, blood tr ailing behind him in a long black tail. Her nando str uggled to r etur n to the

bull, clawing for the swor d. The picador s gr abbed his f eet but he slashed at them with theswor d until they held u p their hands and backed away. Then he f lailed wildly in the

dir ection of the bull, pulling himself on his elbows, lines of blood now cr isscrossing inthe sand.

Her nando lost himself at the bull¶s front hooves, with his swor d held back, r eady but unable to str ike. The wide-eyed peones dr agged him quickly back war d with shuff ling

f eet as Car los stood motionless, r ed-ti pped hor ns held high, Her nando¶s blood dr i ppingdown from his nostr ils.

As they r aised Her nando over the r ail and hoisted him onto a str etcher , Her nando came to just long enough to par don the bull. Save this one, he said. I will meet with him

again.Yes, it is tr ue that Her nando par doned the bull, staying an unlikely execution.

This was no no ble gestur e, as a matador might make for a par ticular ly valiant bull af ter a par ticular ly no ble f ight. For Her nando intended only to r etur n and kill this bull himself .

This act, the par don, was, of cour se, unnecessary, for as the picador s said amongthemselves, Who could kill this impossible bull?

Her nando s pent for ty-thr ee days in hos pital, in a suite once occu pied by a twice-gor ed

Jamie Br avo, his slowly im proving vital signs r e por ted daily in El Norte.The Gr eat Matador ¶s r ecovery was com plicated by inf ections and malaise. His

suite over looked a cir cular gar den f illed with well-ke pt zinnias, dahlias, and mar igolds. Inhis nar cotic hallucinations what he saw ther e was a bullr ing: a magical ballet played out

in cloud shadows and blowing leaves, surrounded by long-stemmed af icionados blowingkisses and a pplauding him with rose petals. Her nando saw himself ther e, f ighting the

giant bull with a duvet for a ca pe and a maguey frond for a swor d, both of which hedr agged wear ily behind him as he des per ately cir cled an im possible beast. Sweat pour ed

from him as he was weaned from the morphine and f inished the last of the antibiotics thatwer e f ed to him through intr avenous tubes.

On the for ty-four th day, he lef t the hos pital, emer ging from the halogen halls,squinting into the daylight and walking with the assistance of a crook-handled acacia

cane. Quickly he was surrounded by a throng of pa par azzi at the hos pital lo bby door s. How do you feel, matador? the throng bar ked from behind f lashing bulbs. Will

you fight again? To which he r es ponded only with silence, tur ning to star e out thewindow of his chauff eur ed sedan as it de par ted, and daydr eaming of the day he would



r ejoin the im possible bull in the r ing and put him to his over due death.

A year passed. Gr adually, Her nando r egained his footing, dis pensed with the crook-handled acacia cane, and at last sat for a Televisa interview that was broadcast on the eve

of the following season:

Jour nalist: How gr ave wer e your wounds?

Her nando: Not too ser ious, r eally.

Jour nalist: But you s pent for ty days in hos pital.

Her nando: For exhaustion, it seems. And dehydr ation.

Jour nalist: I under stand the hor n discover ed the f emor al ar tery.

Her nando: They tell me it was gr azed, yes.

Jour nalist: With thr ee tr ajector ies!

Her nando: I did f eel a tickle down ther e.

Jour nalist: Will you r etir e from the r ing?

Her nando: I think not.

Jour nalist: So then what is next for you, matador?

Her nando: I intend to r etur n to the Plaza and kill the giant bull come November .

Jour nalist: You mean to say you ar e planning for a r ematch? With the very same bull?

Her nando: I pr ef er to think of it as a continuation af ter inter mission.

Car los s pent the Mexican winter lying in the cool shade of a calabash tr ee on a rolling

cactus-hilled br eeding r anch in Tlaxcala wher e Her nando knew the owner , the f amedDon Fausto Meza, well; as a f avor to his fr iend (and for his own s por t), Her nando would

of ten test the r anch¶s young bulls for br avery and for m in the pr ivate sessions they callthe tientas.

On Car los¶s f ir st day ther e, the r anch¶s her d of twenty calves r eceded in unison to the f ar side of the f ield to esca pe the enor mity of the im posing str anger . When Car los

a pproached them with his nose to the ground and his mor ning shadow coming at themlike a blackened ca pe, their eyes widened as they par ted and then f led with stutter ing

gaits to the rock y foothills (looking over their shoulder s as they went). Don Fausto f ear edthat Car los had unsettled the young bulls and sa pped their cour age, so he instr ucted his



vaqueros to build a new f ence of mesquite wood and r iver rocks and cleave the f ield intwo. One side for Car los wher e he idled away the long days alone under the winter sun,

and one for the sus picious little toros that ke pt well back of the barr ier that se par atedthem from their f ear some cousin.

The r anch hands wer e no less s pooked than the baby bulls. Don Fausto told them

only half in f un that he thought the giant bull was the r ebor n s pir it of the evil one they called Huay Chivo and not to look the thing in the eyes.



4.La r evancha! The r ematch between the gr eat matador and the im possible bull was set for

La Fiesta de la Objeto Inamovible. Red-letter ed poster s announced the event on shutter edtiendas and busy bus stops and pa per ed-over gr aff iti on the city¶s walls for all of

Se ptember and Octo ber . Dur ing those long, hot weeks, across cantina tabletops, in str eet

caf es and tequila bar s from Tijuana to Ver a Cr uz, af icionados debated the mer its of manver sus bull. They debated with the f ever ed logic of f anatics and the foulest language of philosophy. They ar gued on the television and on the r adio, they ar gued at wor k and at

home, over cold meals, under war m sheets, and with the purple prose of letter s betweenquarr eling lover s.

Inevitably, the gambling houses began acce pting wager s on the bullf ight. Buthow? Who had ever taken odds on the bull in a bullf ight? As the debate wor e on, the

betting line hopped like a jum ping bean from side to side, until the last placid November week when the odds f inally settled at thr ee to one in f avor of the bull.

The day arr ived under calm blue skies. Ah, pulsing butterf lies, buddinggoosef lesh and the high adventur e of an af ter noon at the corr ida! Her nando s pent mor e

than his usual passive f ew moments in the Plaza¶s cha pel that mor ning, pr aying withstudied eff iciency to the Vir gin of the Macar ena. Then he r e peated his routine of

su per stitions for good measur e²massaging his ear lo bes and the soles of his f eet,touching the wallet-wor n pictur e of his f ir st bull, Hamar tia, and one in prof ile of the gr eat

Arr uza, then silently r eading that old poem of Lor ca¶s.When he f inally took to the r ing with a dee p br eath and a signing of the cross, the

crowd rose to its f eet and roar ed, a show of r es pect that def ied the betting line that so f avor ed the bull. At this, Her nando puff ed with pr ide and his stomach, which had

betr ayed him with f lutter s, calmed once again.While Her nando dr ank in his ovation, Car los stood u p in his too-small pen

beneath the pulsating Plaza and listened as the br ass band played The Spanish Gypsy Dance. He listened fondly to the f amiliar booming tuba. When the r efr ain came around

he held his head high and his black nostr ils f lar ed wide and r ang in the chor us with thetuba bell. The gypsy dance gr ew louder as the f loor boar ds above him shook under the

long par ade of those taking their seats in the shade. Dust settled on his snout and hediscar ded it with a lick of his salty tongue.

Soon enough, a slightly built man with his hair in a ponytail a pproached Car los¶s pen on the balls of his f eet. The man blew a quick br eath and slid back the r ust-chi pped

bolt in the gate. The gate swung open with a loud cr eak and the man called, Ah-ha, ah-ha! as he back pedaled u p the r am p and into the ar ena. Car los double-ste pped through the

open gate and followed the man u p the r am p towar d the soothing sounds of the tuba.Tr um pets blew. The crowd leaned in. When Car los r eached the top of the r am p

and emer ged from the shaded chute, the crowd stood again and they roar ed and they jeer ed at equal decibels. In all the corr idas de toros in all of Mexico and f ar beyond, never

had ther e been such an incongr uous r eaction at the entr ance of a bull to the bullr ing.Car los took in the crowd ha ppily, not at all per tur bed by the str ange contr ast of

noises swir ling in the round. But what became of the tuba? He scanned the gr eatam phitheatr e from r ight to lef t, and then lef t to r ight. Fif ty thousand round f aces looked

back down at him. The one belonging to the pr esidente of the Plaza was long andmustached and glowed with delight. The pr esidente¶s com panion¶s was tight with the



cor ner s of her mouth pointed downwar d. The dr unks in the sun seats sla pped their hatsand frothed with glee, and the ladies in the shade either cla pped their hands politely or

f anned themselves with their progr ams or folded their par asols in their ar ms. Car loso bserved one and then another along the long rows behind the barr er a without note. But

when Car los¶s eyes settled on the man who stood on the sand twenty paces befor e him,

they widened with a sof t glow of r ecognition.Her nando¶s emer ald eyes dar kened under ar ched brows. His f inger s tightenedaround the handle of his swor d. He put out of his mind the foot-long scar that meander ed

u pwar d from his knee to his groin like a cr ack in a dry r iver bed. No picador s a ppear ed. No bander illeros wer e called in. Her nando¶s men sat stone-

f aced behind the barr icade, pr e par ed, on or der of the matador , to intervene only at hisdemise.

As a hush dr ew over the Plaza, Her nando made a cir cle around the giant bull.Car los followed him with only a tur n of his head and shoulder s, until Her nando r eached

the r ear side on his r ight f lank, and then the bull tur ned his head to the other side to watchthe man emer ge again from shadow.

Her nando¶s thoughts wer e dr awn to Lor ca: Now the dove and the leopard wrestle/At five in the afternoon«

Car los did not char ge. Her nando closed the distance between them with a str aight back and a stiff neck and pr esented the r ed ca pe.

Car los sat down on his hindquar ter .Someone yelled Olé! which dr ew a cr escendo of laughter . Her nando s pat in the

sand and cur sed under his br eath. Arsenic bells and smoke/At five in the afternoon«

Minutes passed.Her nando willed the giant bull forwar d with little gestur es.

Mocking Olés! shower ed down on Her nando like tiny bander illas, until f inally and again the bur ning intensity of the matador ¶s emer ald eyes pulled Car los to him and at

last Car los made a passive attem pt at a char ge.The bass-string struck up/At five in the afternoon«

And another .The Plaza crowd let out a ser ies of slow-rolling Oooooooo-lés. Af ter sever al mor e

cautious passes at the ca pe, Her nando¶s conf idence gr ew. He inched closer to the point of the hor n with each pass, not for the benef it of the af icionados but only for himself .

I t was five in the afternoon«Mor e rolling Olés.

Enough of this, Her nando thought.The f inal pass. Her nando dropped Car los¶s head with the ca pe and jum ped higher

now, landing the swor d pr ecisely in the s pot he intended²just between the shoulder s, atthe center most point on a line with the giant aor ta beneath.

I t was five in the afternoon«Sus pended in the air , his hand r emoved from the swor d, which held f ir mly in the

animal's hide, Her nando f elt a moment of joy like no other . Befor e gr avity took hold² befor e it could r etur n him to the dry sand below, as he sim ply hung ther e like a golden

s pecter of the Fiesta Br ava, held alof t by the whistles of the f aceless crowd²the cor ner sof his mouth began to lif t, along with his eyebrows and then his cheeks and then his ear s,



all together and at once into the beginnings of a«smile.

Groups of silences in the corners/at five in the afternoon«

And then, too soon, he began to f all. As the matador landed, Car los¶s r ight hindhoof ste pped dir ectly onto Her nando¶s tur ned-out ankle, sna pping the bone. A r evolting

Pop! could be hear d all the way to the r af ter s.

Bones and flutes resound in his ears/at five in the afternoon«Car los quickly lif ted his hoof and moved away with a halting, sym pathetic lim p.Aaaaaay! Her nando scr eamed.

Her nando f ell with a thum p to the ground and s pun wildly in a half cir cle. Sandcaked together on his cheek and in the sweat above his brow.

Horn of the lily through green groin/at five in the afternoon«Glancing towar d his men in des per ation, he quickly discar ded the panic he f elt

crossing hotly over his f ace, dr ew himself u p with a f ull devastated br eath, and hoppedginger ly to a position squar ely ten paces befor e the bull.

I will f inish him on one ankle, then! Her nando f umed through his pain. He bar kedat his men to r emain behind the barr icade and to throw him another swor d. Car los, in

consider ation of the matador ¶s pr edicament, found himself com pelled (des pite the swor d-ti p bur ied shallowly in his hide) to follow the matador ¶s ur ging with a benign o bedience.

Lower ing his head, swor d r ising from his back, he shuff led awk war dly towar d theho bbled matador , who was, it seemed, somewhat surpr ised by the bull¶s sudden

surr ender , and not altogether pr e par ed to acce pt it. Now the bull was bellowing through his forehead/at five in the afternoon«

Gather ing u p his muleta quickly, he lea pt again²inasmuch as he could²but withonly one leg to propel him he f ailed to gain the height he needed to plant the swor d in the

mor illo. He landed awk war dly, twisted his r emaining good ankle, and cr um pled in hissuit of lights to the ground.

Aaaaay! he scr eamed again.Car los pulled u p and tur ned to see the matador wr ithing. The bull tur ned around

slowly to f ace Her nando and settled gently on his hindquar ter .The wounds were burning like suns/at five in the afternoon.

Ignor ing Her nando¶s f lailing ar ms, his men lea pt over the barr icade, distr actedCar los unnecessar ily with a gr eat waving of ca pes, and gather ed the matador to saf ety as

Car los sat on his tail and watched them from the center of the r ing. I t was five by all the clocks! I n the shade of the afternoon!

Cur sed f ate! Again Her nando, with maniacal des per ation, par doned the bull as hewas dr agged through the barr ier to the ambulance that stood waiting outside the gate.

Des pondence. Her nando convalesced from his beach home high on a cliff over looking

the crop of black rock for mations in Zihuatanejo Bay. He sat silently for much of eachday, his leg elevated atop a leather pillow per ched atop a wicker ottoman, watching the

occasional puff of cloud cross the watery hor izon.The uninvited voices that haunted Her nando¶s waking dr eams s poke between the

calls of the af icionados in the shadows. I s he up to the task? they said. Why not let it go?they said. You¶ll get a pass. F ight a smaller bull, a normal bull. Her nando hear d them in

the Plaza seats, hear d them on the Metro, hear d them in their homes talking back to their television sets.



One voice rose above. Whose voice? Whose voice was this? Was it For tune? Was

it folly or Fate? Our Lady of Surr ender? Was it Manolete whis per ing from the gr ave?

Was he whis per ing def eat? Was it humility? Ignominy? What sound does Providencemake?

Her nando chased these thoughts from his r estless mind like so many autogr a ph

seeker s at the Plaza¶s back gate. If he foster ed any doubts as to another r ematch withCar los the Im possible, those doubts did not a ppear in his heavy emer ald eyes, which bur ned with cr ude, sweet vengeance.

When he squinted into those melting Pacif ic sunsets, he saw bulls in the f at r edclouds.

As Her nando gr ew stronger and pr acticed his footwor k²at f ir st against anassemblage of char ging, bent-at-the-waist, f inger -hor ned peonés, and then with the baby

bulls at the r anch of Don Fausto Meza²Car los s pent the year idly, pacing the dry hills of Tlaxcala and dr eaming of sunf lower f ields and limestone bluff s and the gently f lowing

water s of One Hundr ed Mile Cr eek near the sour ce of the Pequot River .



5.The thir d f ight between Her nando and the bull was scheduled that same year for La

Fiesta de Conf licto Eter no on the last day of the bullf ighting season. Her nando¶s ankle,though pronounced by his doctor f it to bear weight, swelled in the r ain and thro bbed like

an acor deón. This thir d f ight brought mor e gambler s than the last, and the odds settled

quickly at ten to one in f avor of the bull.It will s par e the r eader to condense the cir cumstances of this f ight: it proceededmuch as the pr evious contests. Like the two befor e it, the thir d ended with what the

matador would call def eat, and the bull might call a ha ppy tr uce. This contest lasted mor ethan f ive hour s. For those f ive hour s, Car los played his par t as if he wer e br ed for it,

gaining s peed and closing the distance between his hor ns and the man at each veronica.Her nando, his ankles swelling with each thunder ing pass and his swor d growing heavy,

could not f ind the s pot between the bull¶s shoulder s af ter thir ty-f ive attem pts. The crowd began to thin af ter thr ee hour s, and shower ed the r ing with catcalls and the balled-u p

butcher pa per they peeled from their tor tas as they went.The stalwar ts r emained until the sunset tur ned to dar kness. Only the dr unks

stayed until the end to witness the Gr eat Matador colla pse from exhaustion near to midnight.

Was ther e ever such comeu ppance? Her nando passed the off season ignor ing the laughter

of the public. Ignor ing the slights from br eathless jour nalists and bemused passer sby,ignor ing the gossi ping gar nacha vendor s in the mar ket place. Pr ide leaked through his

por es like helium passing through a f estival balloon. He went for long str etches withoutthe com pany of women.

The voices per sisted. What is this business? This messing about with bulls? Tell me again the point. What good ever came of it? They came like unholy s pir its in the night

and loiter ed in the outer r ing of Her nando¶s convalescent ego.As for Car los, he passed the off -season dr eaming most of ten now of r ed ca pes that

waved between sunf lower s and pawing sof t dir t under the steady watch of an emer aldgr een eye as cold clear water s f lowed from an unknown sour ce to an unknown

destination.

Des pite summer months f illed with endless tactical sessions and a coter ie of paidadviser s, the following year , the Thir d Rematch (in the f ir st f ight of the season) saw the

oddsmaker s star t the betting at one million to one in f avor of the bull. This, said theoddsmaker s, was necessary in or der to attr act any bets at all for the matador .

One million to one? thought Her nando. Can it be? Can this bull be trulyindestructible?

The sentiment among af icionados was that Her nando would never r egain hisswagger , never r egain the very br avado that had destined him for f ame. Her nando himself

knew well that a good gor ing had r uined the conf idence of many a f ine matador . He¶d notknown his gr andf ather but had long f elt the cold s pell of that blue roan that killed him as

it star ed out into the par lor above the static halo of the f amily television. He had seen hisf ather go weak in the knees when he r etur ned to the r ing af ter his br ush with the end at

the hor n ti p of the bull Conejhero. Juan¶s passes became quick, jum py. Not to mentionSuar ez, Villacor ta, Or donez, all of whom had lost their footwor k, bent back the muleta



with their cowar dly elbows, and lost their nerves in the ways he so des pised.

No, Her nando said, it is all in the head. This bull will die by day¶s end, and the

pinches in the tendidos will go silent with awe and the whole of the Plaza will roar withthe chants of Hernando! Hernando! once again.

But, as the Fates had evidently designed, this f ight ended as did the other s: with

Car los sitting dejectedly on his tail as Her nando lay unconscious in the sand. By r ights,Her nando ought not have survived, said those who witnessed things f ir sthand²but againhe summoned the str ength to par don the bull befor e he colla psed into extended dar kness.

He s pent the year in a par tial coma. Though he began to r es pond to cer tain stimuli

almost immediately (long and guttur al huh-huhs caused his f inger s to twitch), it was notuntil the following November when Caron took two tails in the f ir st two weeks of the

season that Her nando sat u pr ight in his bed and declar ed of a sudden that he would f ightagain.

When he r etur ned, the Plaza would not take him. He off er ed to front the ticketsales, to no avail. They said, You should take this act to the Cir cus Atayde!

Though non plussed, Her nando was not altogether surpr ised. All season long, hecalled on every em pr esar io of every bullr ing lar ge and small from Tijuana to Cozumel.

We¶r e f ull u p, they said.Try f ar ther south, they said.

So sorry, Gr eat One, they said. Per ha ps you might f ight another bull?

And so Her nando bought Car los back from the em pr esar io of the Plaza for two hundr ed pesos and a half bottle of Oaxacan mezcal. With nowher e else to tur n as the lust for

vengeance bur ned on his skin, Her nando sold the villa in Las Lomas and bought for himself and for Car los the smallish but r es pectable bullr ing in his hometown of R onda,

wher e his name still echoed in the ancient r af ter s and the f eats of his youth wer e bothr emember ed and imagined.

That four th year they claimed the bull became sym pathetic to the matador . Even the

r heumiest gabachos in the u pper seats could see that Car los had studied the matador ¶s passes with a cr itical eye. But then, any bull will lear n from a matador the longer it is

allowed the benef it of ex per ience.They claimed the bull began to develop a for m of attachment. Was it ever so?

Car los, it cannot be dis puted, had become an accom plice in the S pectacle Without End(as the news pa per s now called it) and enjoyed the exer cise and the com pany, if not the

awk war d conclusion of each f ight.Car los, it can even be said, came af ter a time to r elate fondly to the matador . The

giant bull associated the s pectacle with com panionshi p, and sensed however f aintly at a purpose if not a meaning in his par t.

The gambling ceased. Ther e was not an af icionado in all of Mexico now who would par t

with his money on the conf idence of the matador , no matter the odds.Small crowds came to the bullr ing in R onda, at f ir st for the f ight, and then for the

man²and then only for the bull. And then sim ply to mock and jeer at the gr eat bullf ighter in his shame.



Af ter the f if th year , Her nando could no longer em ploy a cuadr illa, even with

above-mar ket salar ies and a light wor kload.

Her nando sold the condominium in the city.And then the crowds sim ply stopped coming at all. This is the man who fought ten

bulls at once? The Great One? The Legend?

And so it went. For many year s they fought like this, Her nando¶s s pir it, like hisr e putation, growing tatter ed as an aged ca pote. His hear t as em pty as the plaza¶s seats.

Her nando¶s only chance at r edem ption had ever been in killing the bull. But ateach f aena, the tr agedy ended as the last² with broken bander illas, broken swor ds, and an

exhausted Her nando conceding def eat, unable to pier ce the shoulder blades of theever mor e accommodating bull.

As time went on and the contests lost the last pr etense of for mality, it was Car loswho shoulder ed the uneven weight of the perfor mance. By now, he was settled f ully into

this daily routine: u p with the sun each mor ning, a br eak f ast of cor n and gr ain (or now and then the r emains of tamales wr a pped in banana leaves lef t at the gate by the wif e of

Don Fausto Meza), a leisur ely stroll around the r ing under the watchf ul eye of thematador . Then through the motions with a ser ies of well- pr acticed char ges, then par doned

with only a wave of the matador ¶s hand, then back to his pen wher e he settled into his bed of hay.

Of necessity, Her nando eschewed all ex pense, save f eed for the giant bull. Eachmor ning, as the sun cr e pt over the wet sands of the r ing, Her nando would dr ag a f eed

sack into Car los¶s pen, open the door , drop the sack on the sand in front of the bull andsay, Eat, toro, this is your last meal on this earth. Car los would then dutif ully nod his

snout and paw at the sack excitedly until it s pilled open onto the ground as Her nando tur ned his back to the bull and walked back u p the callejon to pr actice his veronicas to the

roar of the em pty seats.

If your demons off er ed you a tr uce would you take it? If your monster s put forwar d amiddle ground would you meet them ther e? Her nando would not. Af ter seven year s, the

matador ¶s anxiety became acute. His pr ize money, his entir e lif e¶s savings, dwindled to little mor e than a peóne¶s wages in the for m of the pension he dr ew from the matador s¶

union. One by one, the r emainder of his homes wer e taken from him, sold at auction. Andso, he made a home of his bullr ing²aside from Car los, the last of his possessions.

For ten year s mor e it went on this way: Her nando¶s dementia advanced like the af ter noon

shade as he scr i pted the f ights, and fought alone in the r ing with Car los the Im possible.All that r emained of the corr ida now was the never -ending f aena.

Her nando¶s bear d gr ew long and white and tangled. As the matador slowed,Car los com pensated with passionate char ges, on each animated pass placing his hor ns

just within danger of the man¶s tor so, but only just so.At the end of each day, Her nando sent the bull back to his stall with a f amiliar

r efr ain: Toro, you tor ment me.

[Car los snor ts.]You can¶t know the pain you have caused me.



[Car los burr s.]I¶m of a mind to set f ir e to you and be done with it.

Her nando¶s hear t came undone like a cow hitch sli pping its knot²even as that which

joined them gr ew f ast. For Car los this tie was f astened in the f amiliar routine of f eeding,

r unning, and slee ping under the matador ¶s ever - pr esent emer ald eyes. Car los gr ew content with this lif e, though when he sle pt he dr eamed almost always of the same or angeand yellow sunf lower f ield, the same tower ing limestone bluff s and the gently f lowing

water s of the Pequot River .For Her nando their tie was for ged in something like ar dor . He sle pt uneasily, and

dr eamed only of killing the bull.Come mor ning, Car los would emer ge again from the tunnel and cir cle the r ing

idly, following Her nando as a calf follows a cow.

And then the f ighting stopped. Matador and bull would only siesta for long str etches inthe af ter noon; Her nando on his back basking in the sun, Car los pacing the r ing fr eely

until he made a bed for himself in the shade. On occasion he would nuzzle Her nando with his snout, car ef ul with the hor ns so as not to mistakenly punctur e the man.

At nights, as Car los sle pt in his pen beneath the Plaza¶s em pty seats, Her nando would walk the city, pawing the str eets with the ti ps of his toes and utter ing nonsense.

Other nights Her nando sat behind the barr er a and watched the shadows play outgener ation-old perfor mances by Arr uza and Manolete, cheer ing them through the echoes

of his own f ebr ile laughter .Only r ar ely was he r ecognized now by the public. Only r ar ely would he be

acknowledged. When he was, they would say with genuine surpr ise, Are you still fighting that bull? And then they would laugh at the thought of a f if ty-year -old man, who by

a ppear ance looked twenty year s older still, dancing with a bull who seemed to r egar d thecorr ida as a sublime but humble amusement.



6.It was in the twentieth year , long af ter the public¶s attention had eva por ated like mor ning

dew from the plaza sands, that Her nando succumbed to his madness in f ull. In the end, hehad come to think like a bull. He sle pt in the pens or on the bullr ing f loor . He pawed the

sand as he walked, twisting his head and snor ting²his long bear d hiding oats and hay,

his rotten teeth hiding the cor n f eed he shar ed with Car los. He sle pt most comfor tably, by now, in the cool shadow of the giant bull as they lay on the plaza f loor , exhausted by theaf ter noon sun.

On his last day, he pr ayed to the Vir gin of the Macar ena for a knowledgeablecrowd and a windless day, crossed himself twice, and closed his eyes. When Car los

emer ged from the callejon, he str etched lazily under the mor ning sun, and saw Her nando slum ped sideways over a hor se¶s saddle, motionless, dew r ising u p around him.

Car los r ecoiled. His hear t contr acted, then slowed. Pain f illed his chest. Adr enalin pour ed through him like a hundr ed toros r unning blindly through narrowing str eets as he

ste pped towar d the body of the matador , knelt, and nuzzled the cold back of his neck.

Ther eaf ter , Car los sle pt f itf ully. Days of melancholy followed days of des pair . What to do with this bull? Her nando¶s cr editor s asked themselves. The plaza we will kee p. But

the bull? Too old now to slaughter even if he could be slaughter ed, too old to br eed.And what now for the bull to do?

Car los paced the r ing, ate little, slee ping much of the day and all through thenight. The doctor s said, This animal is under a gr eat deal of str ess.

Car los began to thin. The giant bull dropped a thousand pounds within a month,another thousand pounds the next. Ribs pr essed out from his sof tening skin and into the

sand of his pen like the shi p timber s of a scuttled galleon. Even the ancient bolts tr a ppedin his skull became visible in br ight light.

In his f itf ul slee p, he dr eamed a f ull palette of color s: or ange and yellow sunf lower s, r ed f lashing ca pes, the once-sharp look in Her nando¶s eyes lit in pier cing

emer ald gr een.

The end comes, not with a f lash of the muleta, not at the end of a pic. Car los, having played his par t, dr if ted towar d his quer encia, unr equited. Some would say it was the two

bullets in his skull that f inally did him in. Other s would say that for a bull of that age,well, it was sim ply time. The poets of the o bituar ies proposed his soul was twinned with

the gr eat matador ¶s like a nahual and ar gued the denouement was f itting: Her nando f inally killed his bull, they said.

No, the doctor said. This animal was healthy in all other r es pects. He sim ply lostthe will to live.

Her nando f inally killed his bull, they said.

Tumble, tumble, tumbleweed. These ar e the last tr ue f acts of this taur ine tale: The arr angements f ell to Don Fausto Meza. Lef t to divine the eter nal wishes of

the matador , Don Fausto s pr ead Her nando¶s ashes among fr eshly planted tr um pet lilies beneath a calabash tr ee on a hill near his br eeding r anch in Tlaxcala, wher e for ever mor e

the gr eat matador might test the young calves for cour age and for m. Now, Don Fausto thought to himself as he consider ed the deadweight of Car los¶s



r emains and the diff iculty of their tr ans por t, what to do with the carcass of an impossiblebull?

And so Car los the Im possible was bur ied wher e he f ell, below the sands of the plaza de toros in R onda, slightly off the center , wher e to this day, when a bull with

par ticular cour age f inds himself str angely in need of comfor t, as though he could will

himself away from the tor eros and the crowd, he will look for a cor ner in the roundnessof the r ing, and back into that very s pot, and f eel a slight br eeze and a gentle water curr ent and the swaying of or ange and yellow sunf lower s beneath his hooves, and he will

stay ther e for a while, until he has gather ed u p his wits or had them dr awn out for him, befor e he lower s his head and char ges through the Olés towar d the man with the ca pe.

-The End-

carlos the impossible

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