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Gerald Monigan

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Posted Friday, July 13, 2001, at 8:30 PM ET

Adiós, Pamplona.

Until next year? We´ll see.

It seems every year, I leave the Sanfermines with these mixed emotions.

On the one hand, I question how long I can keep dealing my aging body this kind of abuse; how many other experiences I might be missing by returning to the same event annually; and especially, how ethical it is to make sport of an animal's existence.

On the other hand, however, I know that once the first of the year has passed, I'll start anticipating the joy of seeing good friends, meeting new ones, and spreading the traditions of a wonderful fiesta.

This morning, as I raced down el callejón toward the bullring, the unmanagable crush of runners all but obscuring the bulls, I was lamenting the futility of having a good run with this kind of crowd. I was pulled up short by a mini pile-up along the right fence. Rather than trying to circumvent it and get knocked down, I just came to a halt and waited to see if the tangle of bodies would unfold.

As the runners scrambled to their feet, it became obvious the one on the bottom was seriously injured. Emergency workers dragged his body under the fence in seconds and began attending to him, but instantly I could see this young man was in serious trouble. His body convulsed grotesquely, and I had that sinking feeling that I was watching a genuine tragedy.

By standing still, I was jeopardizing other runners, though, so I resumed running and was soon in the bullring. There was the usual excitement, the crowd cheering, the runners exulting. And then they let out the cows with capped horns, and they raced around the arena, tossing young men in the air as the crowd cheered "Olé!"

For me, it was a hollow hilarity, as I couldn't shake the image of that kid's body spasming uncontrollably.

And yet the day went on. We drank, we ate, we danced. By day's end, it was time to begin preparations for the return trip.

This year, I'll miss the Pobre de Mi, the lugubrious candlelight closing ceremony. Perhaps that's fitting. The procession of fiesta-goers gives the event closure. For me, there might never be any.

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Posted Friday, July 13, 2001, at 8:30 PM ET
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Gerald Monigan is a former sportswriter.
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