I’ve watched a bullfight. In Tijuana.
My wonderful Mexican Aunt Silvia and my adventure-loving Uncle Russel took me to see it when I was just 10 years old.
I’d always thought bull “fighters” were brave, fearless heroes doing the unimaginable—staring down a thousand pounds of raw anger and triumphing over it.
But, what I was most surprised to learn, was that they’re playing with a stacked deck.
For most of the “fight,” other bright-tight-wearing “picadores” mounted on horseback, stab and weaken the bull so that, by the time the sequenced “matador” gets in the ring, the bull is a weak, bleeding, lumbering mess.
The matador’s final show—waving the red flag around and fatally stabbing the bull in the heart—only comes when there’s almost no chance the bull will fight back.
Almost.
Every once in a while, a bull stares through the blood in his eyes and takes the matador down.
The most famous bull in history—Islero—killed the greatest bullfighter of all time, the matador Manolete, on a hot Spanish day in 1947.
Just like Islero, you and me fight against a stacked deck.
Big-moneyed, powerfully connected corporations and their insurance companies donate to the right politicians.
They hire the best PR and lobbying firms.
They hire the best lawyers who went to the best law schools and work at the most prestigious law firms.
And then they prance around in their sequence tights wearing us out until we almost can’t fight anymore.
Almost.
But, everyone once in a while—just like Islero—the bull wins.