The Last British Bullfighter by Frank Evans

Author:Frank Evans [Evans, Frank 'El Ingles']
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780230756724
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Chapter Nine

FROM BULLRING TO BOXING RING

Bullfighting was never far from my mind during the George Best years, but I simply had to make money and get on my feet financially so I could provide for my family. And having such a young family meant that in the short term there was no way I could really justify going back to Spain and spending the time that I needed there to get me back into the swing of fighting bulls again. For a start I’d miss my lads growing up, and I also didn’t really have the cash to support not only myself once I was over there but my family back home. But bullfighting was always nagging away at me like a devil in my ear. Fortunately, because I was in the travel game, I was able to at least go to Spain with my family for holidays, and we always went to either Valencia or Barcelona, where my bullfighting connections were. But even that became a strain because after a few years of this my wife said, ‘Can we start going to places where you don’t actually know anyone!’

I didn’t blame her, really. We’d always get tied up with meeting people in bars or have to go for meals with my contacts and generally spent a lot of time hanging around people connected to bullfighting. My wife, on the other hand, wanted some quality family time. But it did keep me in with the bullfighting fraternity, and thoughts of making a comeback did start to creep into my mind during the mid to late 1970s. I was lucky I was able to think like that, really, because after the George Best years I really had landed on my feet business-wise. I ended up with a property portfolio of twenty-seven flats, which I rented out, and I also had student bedsits. Over a ten-year spell beginning in 1969 I got lucky and successful. I also bought a new driving school, got three cars on the road and generally had a go at lots of different things.

The only disaster was the restaurant. I was a bit lucky there, because my bank manager was homosexual and fancied the pants off me, so he was quite lenient with my repayments. But this could be highly embarrassing at times. He collared me one day and, grabbing my arm, told me, ‘You’re daft, if you had me as your boyfriend you could take me anywhere, and we could be seen in any place together and no one would suspect. But if you had a girl on the side everyone would suspect and you’d get found out.’

He was right in a way, but I wasn’t gay and I’d have to constantly ward off his advances and say, ‘Look, thanks for the offer but I just don’t fancy men.’

Unfortunately, he could never accept that, but he was marvellous to do business with. If I had a business proposal that required funding he’d say, you need this, that, this, that, bring me the plans, bring me the estimates, done.

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