Luis Miguel called for agua to give his muleta weight against the wind, then started with estatuarios at the fence. He quickly switched to doubling passes to wear down some of the bull's terrible strength, then went back to estatuarios. Three derechazos, and No. 122 hooked the muleta out of the maestro's hand. Miguel retrieved it and started another series of derechazos, trying to teach the bull to follow smoothly. On the fourth pass Domingu�n was suddenly no longer standing by the bull. He was on the ground. Luis Miguel tried to get up, but the horns caught him before a flurry of capes could bring No. 122 away. There were screams in the crowd. Nobody could quite believe it—Domingu�n gored! As Miguel was carried to the infirmary, gravely wounded, his brother-in-law stepped out to finish off his bull with one thrust.
The last bull was the best of the feria. It charged out of the toril like good bulls should, charged honestly and smoothly as Ord��ez gave it a dozen tremendous ver�nicas. After one bout with the picadors, Antonio asked for banderillas. When the sticks were in, Antonio grabbed the muleta, made a quick dedication and actually ran out to meet the bull. Four magnificent erect estatuarios ("�Ol�!") were followed by a faena built around the right hand—each pass slower, closer, more beautiful than the one before. There were series after series of derechazos, each capped by a slow, graceful pase de pecho. Then came manoletinas, a more spectacular pass than the derechazo, but overused by almost everyone except Ord��ez. Every pass in the faena was in rhythmic harmony with the others. Hemingway was delirious, and so was I. "I told you he's the greatest," shouted Hemingway. "He's probably the greatest bullfighter the world has ever seen. He's the greatest I've ever seen." The crowd forced the president to award Ord��ez both ears even though he hit bone once before the final estocada.