WSJ: Spain's Gory Pastime Creates Bull Market For Star Surgeons
Nov 10th 2005, 6:49 am
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WSJ: Spain's Gory Pastime Creates Bull Market For Star Surgeons
Spain's Gory Pastime Creates Bull Market For Star Surgeons
As Crowds Demand Daring, Bloodied Matadors Seek Dr. Villamor's Wizardry
By KEITH JOHNSON
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
November 10, 2005; Page A1
MADRID -- In late August, a half-ton bull gored matador Antonio Barrera
in the chest, tossing him into the air and snapping his collarbone in
two places.
It was the peak of the season, and the matador had a score of fights
that would pay more than $100,000 still ahead of him. Severe gorings
had shortened each of his previous three seasons, and this year seemed
finished too.
Picture:
http://tinyurl.com/cvvvx
Caption: Angel Villamor
Instead of calling it quits, Mr. Barrera turned to one of
bullfighting's newest stars: Angel Villamor, a 39-year-old orthopedic
surgeon.
Dr. Villamor, who honed his skills rebuilding injured motorcycle
racers, crafted a custom-fitted plastic sleeve that he bolted around
Mr. Barrera's shattered bone in place of a cast. He then injected
hemoglobin-rich blood into the marrow to induce quicker healing and
topped off the treatment with daily physical therapy. Rather than
spending three months in bed, Mr. Barrera was back in training in three
weeks and in the ring a week after that.
"After the goring, I thought it was the same story all over again,"
said Mr. Barrera, 29. "Thank God I could finish a season at last."
As elite surgeons such as Dr. Villamor grow more skillful at treating
complicated gorings and bone fractures, matadors are taking more
chances to earn praise from fickle audiences. This season has been one
of the bloodiest in memory.
In the past, gorings often meant death or long-term disability,
especially in small-town rings far from trained surgeons or
well-equipped operating rooms. In 1984, a famous Spanish matador,
Francisco Rivera, bled to death during a bumpy two-hour drive to a
hospital in Cordoba. Most matadors used to play it as safe as they
could. Many still won acclaim from less-sophisticated spectators by
going through the motions in front of the bulls.
The new ringside medical wizardry has bred a deadlier dynamic. Matadors
can get sewn up and be back in action in days, even after horrific
injuries. As a result, crowds expect performances that constantly push
the envelope. Bullfighters take more chances than ever to impress fans,
such as deliberately working on the side of the bull's more dangerous
horn.
All of Spain's top matadors have been gored this year, some on several
occasions, a toll longtime observers say they haven't seen in years.
Most of today's active bullfighters have each suffered four or five
gorings that would have been fatal a few generations ago, experts say.
Photo:
http://tinyurl.com/7t6cj
Caption:
A bull gores matador Antonio Barrera in the chest during an August
bullfight in San Sebastian.
"These kids are risking their lives day after day, and the public
doesn't even appreciate it," says Luis Alvarez, a manager who has
worked in bullfighting for 50 years.
Big-league sports nowadays have doctors standing by to stitch up
athletes and get them back on the field. In the National Football
League, orthopedists and general practitioners -- and sometimes
chiropractors and dentists -- patrol the sidelines to respond to
injuries. In football, boxing and hockey, a big concern is head
injuries.
In bullfighting medicine, it is the odd shape of the wounds that
requires specialized knowledge, according to Ramon Vila, the doctor at
the Seville bull ring. "Sprains, ligament tears, the kind of things
that happen to athletes are the kind of thing that can happen to you in
a bad afternoon working on the house," Dr. Vila says. "But gorings are
unique. Even among other animals with horns, there is nothing like it."
The fraternity of bullfighting doctors consists of about three dozen
vascular and orthopedic specialists around Spain. They watch contests
at their local bullfighting rings from front-row box seats. They can
sprint to the stadium's on-site infirmary, scrub in and start work on
the operating table within four minutes.
Dr. Villamor isn't one of the on-site surgeons but is often called upon
to treat matadors after the initial patching-up. One example of his
handiwork is a molded hand guard he crafted for a leading matador from
Colombia who keeps breaking little bones in his right hand. In the past
year, Dr. Villamor has started attending fights to keep an eye on his
patients, even though he wasn't formerly a big fan. "I get really
nervous," he says. "I feel like a matador's wife watching them fight."
The most dangerous moments come in the third and final act of a
bullfight, when matadors try to subdue the bull using the red cloth
known as the muleta. For most passes, a matador spreads the muleta over
the sword held in his right hand. The larger the muleta appears, the
more likely the bull will charge after it instead of the matador. The
passes that win acclaim and riches come when the left hand is holding
the muleta, brandishing less of it. The matador incites the bull by
stepping forward with his left leg, exposing his femoral artery.
"Back in the heyday, the crowd would fall deathly silent just because a
matador took the muleta in his left hand," says Jose Carlos Arevalo, a
bullfighting historian and magazine editor. "Now they don't even give
it a second glance."
One rising star, 22-year-old Sebastian Castella, was fighting the first
of his two bulls of the day during the all-important bullfights in
Seville this spring when the animal thrust a horn clean through his
thigh.
Spurning help from his handlers and dripping blood, Mr. Castella killed
the bull. He refused medical treatment, bandaged himself and then
waited half an hour to fight his second bull, which he also killed.
Only then did he agree to go to the infirmary to treat a severed
sciatic nerve, which is often excruciatingly painful. Later in the
season, after another series of gorings, Mr. Castella fought for three
weeks with two open wounds in his legs.
Spain's approximately 200 matadors are drawing record crowds and
performing a record number of fights each year. Bull breeders get a
subsidy from the European Union based on how many cows they have, and
thus have an incentive to keep weaker bulls on hand to breed and supply
small-town arenas. Still, the "fiesta nacional" has taken a backseat to
modern diversions, especially soccer, and is getting less play in the
Spanish media. It is perennially under fire from animal-rights groups,
too.
In the season finale in Zaragoza, Mr. Barrera, the bullfighter with the
patched-up collarbone, was again struck by a bull and hurled into the
air. One of his assistants raced in to help and received a foot-long
goring through his right thigh and groin. The assistant survived, and
Mr. Barrera finished off the bull.
Mr. Barrera got only tepid applause from the sellout crowd. Two weeks
later, he packed his bags and set off for Mexico, to fight a few more
months during Latin America's winter season.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB113158625034993089.html
As Crowds Demand Daring, Bloodied Matadors Seek Dr. Villamor's Wizardry
By KEITH JOHNSON
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
November 10, 2005; Page A1
MADRID -- In late August, a half-ton bull gored matador Antonio Barrera
in the chest, tossing him into the air and snapping his collarbone in
two places.
It was the peak of the season, and the matador had a score of fights
that would pay more than $100,000 still ahead of him. Severe gorings
had shortened each of his previous three seasons, and this year seemed
finished too.
Picture:
http://tinyurl.com/cvvvx
Caption: Angel Villamor
Instead of calling it quits, Mr. Barrera turned to one of
bullfighting's newest stars: Angel Villamor, a 39-year-old orthopedic
surgeon.
Dr. Villamor, who honed his skills rebuilding injured motorcycle
racers, crafted a custom-fitted plastic sleeve that he bolted around
Mr. Barrera's shattered bone in place of a cast. He then injected
hemoglobin-rich blood into the marrow to induce quicker healing and
topped off the treatment with daily physical therapy. Rather than
spending three months in bed, Mr. Barrera was back in training in three
weeks and in the ring a week after that.
"After the goring, I thought it was the same story all over again,"
said Mr. Barrera, 29. "Thank God I could finish a season at last."
As elite surgeons such as Dr. Villamor grow more skillful at treating
complicated gorings and bone fractures, matadors are taking more
chances to earn praise from fickle audiences. This season has been one
of the bloodiest in memory.
In the past, gorings often meant death or long-term disability,
especially in small-town rings far from trained surgeons or
well-equipped operating rooms. In 1984, a famous Spanish matador,
Francisco Rivera, bled to death during a bumpy two-hour drive to a
hospital in Cordoba. Most matadors used to play it as safe as they
could. Many still won acclaim from less-sophisticated spectators by
going through the motions in front of the bulls.
The new ringside medical wizardry has bred a deadlier dynamic. Matadors
can get sewn up and be back in action in days, even after horrific
injuries. As a result, crowds expect performances that constantly push
the envelope. Bullfighters take more chances than ever to impress fans,
such as deliberately working on the side of the bull's more dangerous
horn.
All of Spain's top matadors have been gored this year, some on several
occasions, a toll longtime observers say they haven't seen in years.
Most of today's active bullfighters have each suffered four or five
gorings that would have been fatal a few generations ago, experts say.
Photo:
http://tinyurl.com/7t6cj
Caption:
A bull gores matador Antonio Barrera in the chest during an August
bullfight in San Sebastian.
"These kids are risking their lives day after day, and the public
doesn't even appreciate it," says Luis Alvarez, a manager who has
worked in bullfighting for 50 years.
Big-league sports nowadays have doctors standing by to stitch up
athletes and get them back on the field. In the National Football
League, orthopedists and general practitioners -- and sometimes
chiropractors and dentists -- patrol the sidelines to respond to
injuries. In football, boxing and hockey, a big concern is head
injuries.
In bullfighting medicine, it is the odd shape of the wounds that
requires specialized knowledge, according to Ramon Vila, the doctor at
the Seville bull ring. "Sprains, ligament tears, the kind of things
that happen to athletes are the kind of thing that can happen to you in
a bad afternoon working on the house," Dr. Vila says. "But gorings are
unique. Even among other animals with horns, there is nothing like it."
The fraternity of bullfighting doctors consists of about three dozen
vascular and orthopedic specialists around Spain. They watch contests
at their local bullfighting rings from front-row box seats. They can
sprint to the stadium's on-site infirmary, scrub in and start work on
the operating table within four minutes.
Dr. Villamor isn't one of the on-site surgeons but is often called upon
to treat matadors after the initial patching-up. One example of his
handiwork is a molded hand guard he crafted for a leading matador from
Colombia who keeps breaking little bones in his right hand. In the past
year, Dr. Villamor has started attending fights to keep an eye on his
patients, even though he wasn't formerly a big fan. "I get really
nervous," he says. "I feel like a matador's wife watching them fight."
The most dangerous moments come in the third and final act of a
bullfight, when matadors try to subdue the bull using the red cloth
known as the muleta. For most passes, a matador spreads the muleta over
the sword held in his right hand. The larger the muleta appears, the
more likely the bull will charge after it instead of the matador. The
passes that win acclaim and riches come when the left hand is holding
the muleta, brandishing less of it. The matador incites the bull by
stepping forward with his left leg, exposing his femoral artery.
"Back in the heyday, the crowd would fall deathly silent just because a
matador took the muleta in his left hand," says Jose Carlos Arevalo, a
bullfighting historian and magazine editor. "Now they don't even give
it a second glance."
One rising star, 22-year-old Sebastian Castella, was fighting the first
of his two bulls of the day during the all-important bullfights in
Seville this spring when the animal thrust a horn clean through his
thigh.
Spurning help from his handlers and dripping blood, Mr. Castella killed
the bull. He refused medical treatment, bandaged himself and then
waited half an hour to fight his second bull, which he also killed.
Only then did he agree to go to the infirmary to treat a severed
sciatic nerve, which is often excruciatingly painful. Later in the
season, after another series of gorings, Mr. Castella fought for three
weeks with two open wounds in his legs.
Spain's approximately 200 matadors are drawing record crowds and
performing a record number of fights each year. Bull breeders get a
subsidy from the European Union based on how many cows they have, and
thus have an incentive to keep weaker bulls on hand to breed and supply
small-town arenas. Still, the "fiesta nacional" has taken a backseat to
modern diversions, especially soccer, and is getting less play in the
Spanish media. It is perennially under fire from animal-rights groups,
too.
In the season finale in Zaragoza, Mr. Barrera, the bullfighter with the
patched-up collarbone, was again struck by a bull and hurled into the
air. One of his assistants raced in to help and received a foot-long
goring through his right thigh and groin. The assistant survived, and
Mr. Barrera finished off the bull.
Mr. Barrera got only tepid applause from the sellout crowd. Two weeks
later, he packed his bags and set off for Mexico, to fight a few more
months during Latin America's winter season.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB113158625034993089.html
