THE SPORTING SCENE

LA LINEA, Oct. 5--The Matador A.C. rallied for four victories here this afternoon as the sun dropped behind the rock of Gibralter and the local populace trooped home to their tortillas and madeira. So ended a post-season charity "festival" in this small Spanish town near Gibraltar, "home" of Prudential Life Insurance. One man and four animals expired during the festival.

Most Americans seem appalled by the crudity and barbarity of bull-fighting. We know nothing like this in our rather wide assortment of athletics, except possibly a B.C.-B.U. hockey game, so perhaps it requires the Spanish temperament to appreciate bull-fighting as a sport and as a form of entertainment. The Spaniard might point out that his sport involves no more punishment than many American boxing matches, and he would be partly right. But the analogy is not really valid: here when one of the participants appears severely weakened, his opponent is not permitted to butcher him completely.

The Field and the Arena

You might argue that killing animals in the woods is the same as killing them in the arena. But in the case of game, the animal is dispatched with as few thrusts as possible. Efforts are made to free him of his pain, not to intensify it to the point where at last it overwhelms him. Furthermore, the hunted animal has a better chance of survival; it actually seems to provide greater sport for the hunter. Finally, the kill is not witnessed by ten thousand enthusiastic partisans; the contest in the field becomes a more personal one, the resourceful hunter pitted against the cunning animal.

By the same token, we have no sport in which any of the participants risks death to the extent the bull fighter does. Bull-fighting puts teeth in the old Grant-land Rice quatrain about it not mattering whether you win or lose but how you play the game.

Anyway, before today's first match was five minutes gone the attendants were whisking one fellow out of the ring. He was not the matador, the man who engages the bull, but one of a squad of agitators who dart around the arena harrassing the bull, armed only with a cape. If it appears that the bull will make contact with one of them, the man sprints behind one of four barricades situated around the sides of the arena. This particular agitator got caught out in the middle, where the bull bounced him around twice on his horns, then crushed him with his head while the fellow was lying on the turf. All this failed to dampen the spirits of anyone in the crowd, most of whom came provided with an abundant supply of spirits.

Artistry in the Ring

When the agitators finish playing patsy with the bull, the actual business of dismantling the animal begins. A man with two gaily festooned spears attempts to insert them between the bull's shoulder blades. He does this several times, so that by the time the matador carries the fight to the bull with a sword long enough to row a boat, the bull is charging around with five or six of these spears sticking out of him.

The work of the matador is the only artistic aspect of the fight. All matadors seem to be slim, tanned young men wearing tight-fitting gray stripped clothes with their hats set at a jaunty angle. You admire their graceful movement as you would admire any athlete with rhythm and coordination. Several matadors did not even move their feet as the bull charged the cape; they merely pulled the cape aside, arched their bodies, and let the bull brush past. Finally, the matador lines up his sword as he would a billiard cue and goes in for the climax. According to how the crowd reacts to his performance, the matador is allowed to retain one bull's ear, both ears, or both ears and the tail. As he struts around the ring acknowledging the appreciation of the spectators, he tosses these articles to persons in the stands. They are treasured in the same way autographed baseballs are, though they make less functional souvenirs.

Guts and Skill

One of the matadors today was a small boy of fourteen years, who survived a couple of run-ins with the bull and went on to defeat him. This brave lad possessed all the gestures of the old pros and he put on the best show of them all. No matter what you may think of bull-fighting or the kid's chances of retiring at sixty-five in one piece, you have to recognize his as an exhibition of guts and skill. He was Albie Booth cracking a beefy line, he was Bobby Schantz beating the Yankees.

The matadors were deprived of one possible victory in the opening match when the bull in question refused to take an active part in the goings-on and was dismissed. Maybe that made it a charity show.

The best thing about watching a bull fight is the stadium. It is round, so, as Bill Bingham used to advertise another stadium, every seat is on the 50-yard line.