Carlos Montoya

My father was a lover of all things spanish. Paella, De Falla, Casals. He kept building the perfect spanish house over and over again. Why did it take me so long to appreciate the intelligence, culture and breadth of my father? The older I get, the smarter he gets and the more stupid I feel. He conceived something and he made it happen. A bull. A brilliant and an incredibly accomplished man, although more than slightly detached from his progeny. Some of us chase our parents around our whole life, dead or alive, often still seeking their approval.

My father took me to see Montoya when I was a young man. Dad was also a devotee of the bullfight. He shot video of the great Carlos Arruza on horseback once while in Spain. I hope that it is still somewhere in the family coffers.

We would occasionally see the fights in Tijuana. Lomelin and Eloy Cavazos, that time period. You wanted to be on the shady side and steer clear of the fights. Lots of nasty catcalls. They would give the meat of the bull to the poor after the fights. This is the newer Bullring by the Sea. Best tacos I have ever eaten next door.

While admittedly somewhat barbaric, there is an aspect of medieval pageantry at the fights that I always appreciated.

I always wanted to visit Spain. My whole class went in my freshman year of high school. Being the poor kid on scholarship at prep school, I couldn't afford to go. Yet.