"¡Matalo, Hombre!" they scream, rising from their seats. El Cordobes is just an inch away from the sharp horns of Impulsivo, the bull. He just takes one small step back, snatching the red cloth from over Impulsivo's eyes. Impulsivo's horn then pierces the air behind the red cloth. The first waves of "¡Ole!" did it. Now he could go on and on and on and on. He had no fear at all. He never really had any, just a little bit of what they call "stage fright."

He was now in total control. Impulsivo, the brave bull, was just a toy, a mere toy, and Manolo was a child. This child has been given a toy he has been craving for. The child is now at play. Do not disturb him. You cannot. Especially when the toy has now been oficially gifted to him.

The crowd consisting of thousands of Spaniards standing up and leaning forward, hoping to be more audible to the intended target while screaming their hearts out acknowledging, supporting, raving, and yelling for more.

El Cordobes hears from the middle of the ring. He has heard these screams before many times but this time it was louder, much louder and totally different. These screams had sentiment and were of sentimental value. Yes of course, they were directed at him, and him alone.

Yea! This time, for the very first time, Manolo, now known as El Cordobes, the boy in rags from Cordoba is "El Matador."

This was his very first fight. Today he had fulfilled a promise he had made to himself when he was a mere kid. It was made immediately after watching a black and white movie of one of Spain's greatest matadors of that time. He was absorbed in the movie from the very start and did not stop his involvement thereafter.

When the movie was over, he turned his head away from the screen, deep in thought, in a pensive mood, reviewed the scenes. The most exciting ones came first. Then he rewinds and goes through it once more.

The scenes in that movie involving that Spanish bullfighter, who was, at that time the hero of many, became his too. The glamour, the excitement, the respect for the profession, the hero-worship it evoked, and also the earning potential put Manolo in a spell.

Now the time has come for his decision. Today he makes an important decision in his life. That's it! He raises his head and says to himself solemnly, "¡Voy a ser matador!"

He made that promise to himself. He had at that age and moment selected his career, a career that would raise him to the highest level. The bravest of the brave will he be one day. He would definitely not break this promise, especially as he had made it to himself.

Today is the day. Today is his chance. He is now the principal focus. His speed and instinct enables even innovation. His talents are further fuelled by the screams. Instinct becomes the winner. The magnificent bull is all over him. To his right, to his left, just in front and right behind. It is he who makes it so. Clever and yet dangerously executed manoeuvres bring on a frenzied audience to a higher boiling point than meer screams. They see but they don't believe.

The mind of El Cordobes is also stark active, and fully responsive to the reaction of this ecstatic crowd. He says to himself, "scream, spectators scream!" If you want more fodder El Cordobes, El Matador muy bravo is at your service. And fodder, he surely provides.

Another quick flick of the wrist leaves the bull confounded once more. This time El Cordobes was on his knees. Each time only a fraction of an inch away from sure death.

The spectators near exaustion. Now they start screaming to one another, "¡Por Dios! Este hombre es loco!" ... "¡Si! ... ¡Por supuesto!"

This is ridiculous. Inviting such danger from an angry bull was an unforgivable thing indeed. Bulls never forgive. Especially in an arena with a matador and that menacing red cape. Why should they, when the opportunity to get even is wide open. Impulsivo, the brave bull was furiously lashing his horns at the image that was just there, replaced every now and then by thin air.

The point is who will win? Animal or the other. The other? No human could endure such danger for such a long period of time and emerge victor.

Not far away in a temporary prison called home, Angelita Benitez, Manolo's sister, weeps. Weeps in fear. Sheer fear. Undergoing anxiety and tension which would surely kill a dozen women almost instantly. Will she see her brother alive again?

Born poor and orphaned at a very young age, it became his elder sister's mission to look after the family. The movie did it. His first practice session was carefully pre-planned.

A blanket belonging to his sister, dyed red, moonight to show the way, a high wall to scale, and there he was in the ranch owner's territory, bull territory.

He calls out to the first bull he spots. "¡Hey toro! "¡aqui! ¡aqui!" All he wants is practice. An "opportunidad," He knew his capabalities for sure, and envied those before him merely because they had the "opportunidad" which he never even had the potential of having.

A little boy, a street urchin, the brother of his sister, future matador, all in one, Manolo was an orphan and his sister was his future and the future was his sister. Angelita Benitez, working away from home to earn, and working at home to fulfill a promise she had made to her parents ... to look after the other kids.

That was her mission. At the end of each day she was exausted. At the beginning of the day more work, to feed the family, to bring up Manolo and his siblings. Tireless she was.

Angelita was now at home, as nervous as a sister could be. Especially if her brother is away facing continous danger. Knowing her brother's intense affection for danger was even more distressful.

All of a sudden she remembers how sure he was before leaving home. If "she" could not stop him. Nothing could. He was dead certain he could handle it. He was talking about it for weeks. Not a day passed without Angelita making attempts to talk Manolo out of this crazy scheme of becoming a bullfighter. With every warning comes a bigger assurance from Manolo.

The same thing but with much more vigor, and expectation. But the real thing was happenning today. She could not go to the arena. She would die of fright, expecting the worst would certainly kill her.

Manolo got her to promise she would not come to watch. More than anything he did not want his sister to suffer. Suffer with the agony of anxiety. Anxiety which he was sure would grow with every twitch of the bulls horn. She would be dead before the match was over.

Weeping, praying fervently, the anxious sister was waiting, waiting, and waiting, hoping strongly that her brother would come back unharmed. But would he?

If only she knew half of what was happening in the arena she would be dead. Manolo did not tire at all. Nor did the bull. Manolo never ran out of tricks. Innovation in sport is considered allowed in this game. Here it is one life against another. Who will emerge the victor?

Angelita Benitez, was dying. Anxiety was killing her. Nothing could stop it. Why did she not stop him a year back? Two years back? Three years back? It would have been much easier at that time. Now with every passing second she became surer and surer that she would not see her brother alive again. She was certain. Dead certain.

More than anything silence was killing her. Silence is a killer indeed. Especially to those undergoing anxiety, and in a situation such as this, although she would know the result very soon, the fear that the news of the result would be unbearable. How long can one endure such silence?

What was going on in the arena? The screams of the spectators were heard for miles. Those who were unable to get in considered themselves most unfortunate. However, the cacophony of all the screaming told them the full story. Imagination should do the rest.

The silence is now slowly fading. Or is it that Angelita's ears were playing tricks on her? Deep down she knew that silence is synonymous with death. When there is a threat to destroy silence, then hope comes along. She thought she heard voices. Voices from far. She hoped that she heard right. She was!

Voices from far away, slowly approaching, recognizable too. Screams. Screams of jubilance! Yes jubilance indeed! The neighbours and the other members of the family were returning from the arena, jubilant, all of them, and they were all screaming. Victory screams are different from all other forms of screaming! For once, for the very first time, Manolo's voice was drowned by that of the others, but clearly recognizable by his sister!

Why did she worry at all? He had so confidently given her an assurance. He would certainly be back totally unharmed because he had given her that assurance just before he left. Manolo's weeping sister had heard the assurance very well.

What an assurance it was! "Don't cry Angelita, tonight, I'll buy you a house, or I'll dress you in mourning."

... concluded

______________________________________________________________

Manuel Benitez Perez, known as El Cordobes, was Manolo to his family members.

Born into poverty, yet achieving his ambitions by sheer persistence, he rose to fame with his extraordinary talents, becoming one of Spain's greatest bullfighters.

He mesmerized audiences all over Spain, and held them spellbound with his innovative tactics and dangerous maneuvers.

He fought until the year 2000, and now at the age of 73, lives in retirement somewhere in the city of Cordoba.

Manolo's spectacular rise form near zero to total hero is related in superb fashion by the duo that wrote the famous book "Is Paris Burning?"

This book contains vivid descriptions of every major bullfight that Manolo starred in.

Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre who wrote many award winning tales, relate the story of El Cordobes in the best seller entitled "Or I'll Dress You In Mourning."

If this brief review aroused your interest in El Cordobes and the story of his life and adventures, I would recommend that you buy this book.

I suggest you do a google search for "Or I'll Dress You in Mourning." This book should be available for purchase online.

If it isn't, then I suggest you visit the nearest bookshop.