All hopes of the opening afternoon ended over the cliff. He disappointed La Quinta with a run that, if he offered options in his first half, degenerated into infumable.
And the two figures who held the pull of the premiere of San Isidro as a duel in the sun walked through the antipodes: luminous El Juli, impeccable; thick King Rock, unwashed. The bullfight, wrapped in an icy atmosphere, was definitively plunged into a pothole like the crater of the meteorite that killed the dinosaurs.