• Criticism: The reappearance of Enrique Ponce's 'Fantasy'

«I have already overcome my fears». A loud voice escapes by Enrique Ponce's telephone. That he is surprised at the words of his youngest daughter. It is the night before the reappearance in El Puerto de Santa María. 24 hours left and Ponce is already in the city of Cadiz. Bianquita has called during dinner to tell that he has killed a mosquito with his hand . Ponce laughs the occurrence with a melted dad's face. And connect FaceTime so we can see the little girl. Everyone around the table greets the seven-year-old brave princess. «Yes, tomorrow bullfighting. I love you, dream me ».

Under the relaxation of the moment, an adult fear crawls to the bones. Julio, the chauffeur who is more than the chauffeur, recognizes himself frightened, "even the bars". He has been with the bullfighter for a quarter of a century and he has not separated from his side a single day of these five months against the clock and pain. Since the knee exploded in Valencia back in March. The injury would end the season of an elite athlete with 25 years less . Ponce turns 48 in December. Inhabits the top of bullfighting for 30 years.

The owner of the restaurant La Cuchara, in front of the Monasterio hotel, where the teacher is staying, recites the letter and the star stews with proud effusivity: «We do not work the fried ones». "Come, then, the smoked ones from Barbate and the sea rice," orders the teacher after democratic prior consultation. And then ask Juan about the bulls. Juan is Juan Ruiz, the proxy, the son of the other Juan Ruiz, El Patas , discoverer of Ponce's early talent. That walks clothed by the second generation of his original team. Also Quinta, the picador, is the son of Manuel Quinta from the beginning. The gang arrives with the illusion of the family necessarily separated. The break has been a ruin .

When Ruiz explains that Juan Pedro's run has not yet landed due to tensions between the company and the town hall, EP is peacefully restless. The tranquility and balance mark its character of llaneza. «No, if you will see. If in the end we reappear in Malaga. I don't reappear in Motril, ”he says without fuss. The mojama and the smoked tuna cross and Enrique returns to the things of life. To music, to his friend Luis Miguel, Micki in his mouth, Mexican god of the song , to the technique of bullfighting, to the history of bullfighting. Some silences pierce and blur his gaze. As fleeting concerns. As one: the knee.

Juan's cell phone rings. Tomorrow's bulls are coming.

The light of El Puerto de Santa María floods the streets too soon. At nine o'clock in the morning the picadores Quinta and Palomares cross the door of the hotel. They come from running. Sweaty, panting, the iPod on the arm, square as athletes specializing in rings, foal and symmetric bars . Goodbye to Botero's Varilargueros, to the stereotype of the round booby. At 10:30, the person in charge of our appointment comes on time. The bulls were landed and recognized after three in the morning. An external generator fed the spotlights. The spermic intramuros of bullfighting . That do not change. As the contempt of politicians. Enrique Ponce still sleeps.

"The run is extraordinary and weighs," says Juan shrinking the index fingers of his hands. Mariano de la Viña is waiting in the square, a banderillero of trust since the Ponist genesis. His is the responsibility of enlotar the bulls. The gangs of Morante de la Puebla and José María Manzanares are delayed. They fly from the night of Palma de Mallorca. Nine horsemen move in the pens lazily . Like goldfish in an aquarium. De la Viña wants to open them for fur and, of course, combine the facts. And the faces, of course. "It's hard to choose". So smooth is the run. The coarsest bull stays as the first overroat. As second, one of little auction. Another has been dismissed by the authorities. Who talk in the catacombs of the galleries. The chopsticks, supported on a wall, even without the puyas, await their owners. Each one labeled with the name of a booby. It smells like zotal the morning.

Ponce has woken up and awaits news lying in bed. "The 106 is very good," prophesies Emilio, the mayoral. It is called Fantasy. In his notebook and in his head, bulls are numbers. The 103 scratches with a corner that protrudes at door 42. Mariano matches: 133-103, 19-125, 124-106. His annotations are the shelter of a bonoloto. At 12:44 the crews of Morante and Manzanares appear: Carretero, Lili and Araujo; Duarte and Suso. They mutter. Someone intuits a cloud in the eye of a bull. "He has the veil." Home oculist tests lengthen the endless act. The most veteran pawns spit curses. They fear that among the dumbfounded envelope. "Go well!" They diagnose from the top of a wall.

The draw is finally held at 13:23 in the office of government delegates. The sound of the public address of the truck announcing the sign is filtered through the windows. The names of the bullfighters fly over their fate. The paper balls with the numbers of the bulls are already scrambled. Which are extracted in order of seniority: 124-106 is the lot of Enrique's reappearance. The 106 is Fantasy . The president of the bullfight warns that if there is a request for pardon and doubt, he will order to take out the horse again ...

The die is cast.

In suite 101, the teacher is informed by his own. Listen to the telephone explanations on the physiotherapist's couch. Victor has been treating him for years. It has the clinic in Úbeda, very close to the farm. The rest of the season will accompany you. A sinuous scar descends through the battered knee, drawing what was the fracture of the tibial plateau. The morning has passed with low tide rhythm. Julio climbed three orange juices, a coffee and prepared a croissant with Nocilla for breakfast. He is a maternal driver. Manzanares is staying at the same hotel and has visited Enrique. As Agustín Díaz Yanes and Ramón García, Ramontxu . That enlivens these first hours of the afternoon. Everyone knows it's a difficult day. Until eight o'clock there is a desert of hours . The coastal breeze sneaks through the open terrace window and clears the room of the liniment smell. "The lift won't blow this afternoon, right?" A weather vane turns smoothly on the roof of the building opposite.

The bullfighting chair is already mounted. The promenade with the Virgen del Mar de Almería covers the white and jet terno. The same as the unfortunate date of Valencia. The carved leather castor that holds the swords appears vertically above the backrest. The name of Enrique Ponce is also engraved on the red lining of the black montera. Float inside the castanet . On the ground, the mats placed at the millimeter seem to await the coming of the Magi. Everything forms a sacred pyramid, the spring of the rite. The marks of the hole of the stretcher have remained as folds in the sleepy face of the matador. That zombie returns to reality. A gray polo shirt and white shorts give an air of tourist in Acapulco . Hundreds of religious images are stacked in a chest that has not been touched since the day of the fuck. As saved in a hurry. Ponce undertakes the arduous task of assembling the chapel. Each representation must go in its place. The table is almost the size of a pool table. The altarpiece of the cathedral of Cádiz will remain horizontal.

Kenny Rogers sounds on the speaker with Through the years . They knock on the door. It's Loren, a sixty-year-old friend of Linares. He enters with a nine-year-old boy who starts crying when he sees his idol up close. It's called Cayetano. Ponce signs the hood that the boy brings and takes a picture with him. On the table / altarpiece you have already placed the Virgin of Guadalupe, that of Fatima wrapped in a medal, that of Medjugorje and that of the Homeless. "Today we are all pinched," Ramontxu whispers. That follows in his role as animator. Of older brother. Skip the conversation of Michael Bublé to Bilbao, the motherland of Ponce: the footprint of 70 paseíllos is a brand. Julio climbs some macaroni and tomato. And a banana and a chocolate ice cream later.

Enrique asks for a new razor blade to his swordsman before being left alone. Time has got stuck like in Peman's poem: "The two, always the two."

Less than an hour to run. The room environment can be chewed. Dani, the swordsman, squeezes the knees. Enrique Ponce does not pronounce a word, lost somewhere. It does some genuflex stretching to merge with the satchel. Everyone looks at the knee. The air conditioning does not work and that condenses the breaths. The legion of virgins, saints and christs extends into the chapel as a mass manifestation of faith. Photographs of deceased people who touched some point of their life intermingle with religious imagery. His brother-in-law Nano, a son of Sancho Dávila, the little one of Pedja Mijatovic and the portrait of a woman he met in a hospital when he died of cancer. When the bullfighter comes to light the candle, Loren wants to take a picture. Julio is taken by demons. There are more people than usual and more than due . Victoriano Valencia contemplates the scene seated, with the hands supported in a cane, wise, old and tanned, cured of frights. The teacher has not considered it appropriate for his daughters to pass through the room today. It conditions him somehow to see them on such a complicated date. What he has done is superhuman. Paloma Cuevas, his wife, appears by surprise to kiss him. He does not want to be much more: over the years he does not know how to hide.

Someone says "now!" The jacket just fit the killer's shoulders. The music that has not stopped playing suddenly falls silent. Ponce stops absolutely absorbed before the altar. Pray inward. And it is crossed before leaving. The burning candle illuminates saints, virgins and the dead. Your flame will not go out until you return.

The van waits. The gang no longer jokes . Mariano de la Viña, Jocho, Jaime Padilla, José Palomares, Quinta, Dani and Rubén, who is the help, occupy their places. They have the mood and humanity of Enrique. Stretching the reconstructed leg on an armrest. Javier Conde has joined Victoriano and Ramontxu. Ayma travels on foot. His watch advances five minutes and Jocho gets scared. They are barely separated 10 minutes from the clarines of fear. At the bottom of the street appears the majestic square of El Puerto. Nobody talks. The turbamulta surrounding the thing hinders the passage. Ponce quickly bursts into the chapel and José María Manzanares leaves calmly. One last sentence in gloom.

The hinges of the gang gate squeak. The dazzling blind sand. The clock shows eight o'clock in the afternoon. Is the time. Five infinite months later , the Minotaur of Chiva returns to step on the ring. Draw the sign of the cross on the third with the tip of the shoe. People roar like a tremor.

Almost three hours later the roar continues. Ponce is rocked on his shoulders with unleashed enthusiasm. Behind the Manzanares procession. And ahead ... Bianquita! Straddling Julio's neck , the maternal driver laughs and raises his arms. His very long curly hair leaves trails of joy. It is Brave's heroine of flesh and blood. Cristina Yanes took her to a hidden lie of her father. That he only knew of his presence when he heard "dad, dad!" He was returning to the clamorous ring and saw her descend the stairs. The pardon of Fantasy has unleashed the apotheosis. As the task of the incombustible master, a sea of ​​caresses . Bianca has only been to a square twice and has already witnessed two pardons. Another bull of Juan Pedro in Malaga also under a melting pot of music. How good is dad, he will think.

The girl dressed in white goes through the first large door. Between flashes, screams, laughs. For her it is a roller coaster. Get down like an angel to the van. And when his father lands he eats it with kisses. The gang is a party family. As soon as you step on the Monasterio hotel, the boss invites you to a beer in the cafeteria. All dressed as bullfighters.

The candle has not gone out in the living room of suite 101. Ponce gives thanks before the altar of virgins, saints and the dead and the flame blows. His return to the ring has been a miracle. And he locks himself in the room with Paloma and Bianca. An hour later the women leave. Count says admired the heroic: "He has only fought seven cows and an eral in five months." Enrique looks out again, already in civilian clothes, to say goodbye. The physical effort is reflected in your face. A strange shiver emerges in his eyes. He is going to have dinner in the room. He doesn't want trouble or celebrations . The knee has become inflamed. Order the ice pack again.

The phrase of Bianquita 24 hours before resonates in his head: «I have already overcome my fears».

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

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  • Enrique Ponce

Substitutions Juli and Cayetano, by Roca Rey in Bilbao

Enrique Ponce receives the Silver Stock of Antonio Ordóñez in Málaga

Feria de JulioRomán does not crown his feat