He Will Be Putting Away His Sword After 25 Years : Bullfighting: Lomelin, one of the great Mexican matadors, will retire following farewell tour.

He was saddened to be leaving his profession, the matador said, but it was time.

And if he felt that way then, in his hotel room, being helped into his suit of lights for his last bullfight in a city that had seen some of his most exciting deeds, that was nothing compared to the emotion he would experience a couple of hours later.

But the matador, Antonio Lomelin, could not know how wrenching the day would be. And then would come the realization that he would have to endure similar afternoons in many other cities and towns, because that is the custom when the good ones go: Make a farewell tour of the country. Fight once more in front of fans who have cheered you, and on bad days reviled you, in each arena fighting your last bull as the plaza band plays the traditional farewell song, “La Golondrina.”

Tijuana, Aug. 25, 1968: Oh, Antonio was good that day. So we gave him both ears and the tail.

For fans, it is a sad time, this farewell appearance, this despedida . For after this day they will never again see the bullfighter perform in a suit of lights in this primitive exhibition of art and danger and courage, of violence and of tragedy. It is not a day like any other.

The custom of the despedida is ancient, although its origin is murky. Nowadays, the retiring matador in each bullring of his farewell tour sometimes allows a friend, relative or co-worker to publicly remove his false pigtail, the little black button he wears at the back of his head. Other times this is done only at tour’s end.

Either way, when his work on that day is finished, the band plays “La Golondrina” again, and the matador circles the arena and catches flowers and wineskins and sometimes articles of clothing, returning everything except the flowers. (As the poet says, “Give me the bouquets while I’m living.”)

“La Golondrina,” Mexican composer Narciso Serradel’s beautiful 1863 standard, means “the swallow.”

In the lyrics, which a Spaniard added many years later, a Moor forced from his homeland in Spain likens himself to a wandering swallow. The song does not mention bullfighting and in fact is a farewell regular for many occasions.

But the Mexican taurine world adopted it for despedidas , and retiring matadors, unless they choose to quit outright or were never good enough to merit such a final campaign, listen to it with mixed emotions, much as many people on New Year’s Eve listen to “Auld Lang Syne.”

Tijuana, Aug. 7, 1977: Oh, Antonio was good that day. So we gave him both ears and the tail.

Lomelin is the Hollywood prototype of a matador: handsome, dark, 6 feet tall, intelligent and personable, skilled and artistic and daring, even heroic. Sure, women pursued him. He did some pursuing, too. And, yes, he probably enjoyed too many parties, some so grand that Mexicans would call them “worth filming.”

But when he stood on those hot golden sands, facing bulls bred to charge and fight and kill, Lomelin was always thoroughly dedicated to his task. From the beginning, and whether performing in Latin America or Spain, he was always one of the best, a figura , one especially noted for his valor.

When his retirement campaign ends early next year in Mexico City, Lomelin will have been a front-line matador for 25 years. Few last as long. Few do so well along the way. He will be 47, with gray in his hair, scars on his body. He will have killed 2,000 bulls, and his place as an all-time star will be secure. And he will be sad.

In his hotel room recently, just before a Tijuana bullfight, the first of his despedidas , Lomelin said:

“I’m sad enough to be leaving, but convinced it’s the thing to do because I’m not satisfied with the way management is handling the bullfighters (wage squeezes and broken promises by promoters controlling several significant bullrings, he says), but mainly because of my gorings and dislocations. I don’t want a bull to cripple me. Quitting is the sane thing.”

And as the bullfighters say, “The bull is always 4, but every year I am older.”

Because of the risks he takes, Lomelin is one of the most-punished matadors of recent years. At least two of his injuries were so severe that he was given the last rites of the church. One was a liver goring on Aug. 1, 1971, at Plaza Monumental de Tijuana, the other a goring in his intestines on Feb. 16, 1975, in Plaza Mexico, the 48,000-seat bullring in the Mexican capital.

Tijuana, Sept. 14, 1980: Oh, Antonio was good that day. So we gave him both ears and the tail.

Lomelin is noted for his repertoire.

Says Ruben Tellez Fuentes, editor of the daily El Sol de Tijuana, former bullring judge and longtime taurine critic:

“Lomelin has been a great figura . He is very valiant, and through his gorings he learned. He is skilled in all phases, incomparable with the sword, extraordinary with banderillas (the barbed sticks placed into a bull’s back to animate him after punishment by the mounted lancers, the picadores ).”

The bullring judge gives out the awards: one bull’s ear for a good job, two for somewhat better, and both ears and his tail for superlative work. Though the decisions are his, a judge is usually influenced by the crowd. Fans, therefore, are happy when their oles and cheers and applause are thunderous, and the award is ears and tail. They feel responsible.

Tijuana, Sept. 25, 1983: Antonio was good that day--with both bulls. We gave him four ears and two tails.

Lomelin, whose parents were Mexicans of Italian descent, was born in Acapulco on Oct. 26, 1944. He swam competitively and practiced other sports until becoming an apprentice matador, a novillero, or killer of young bulls, in Mexico City when he was 21.

Three years later, on Nov. 20, 1967, he went through the required ritual with more experienced bullfighters and became a matador de toros , a full-fledged matador.

Throughout Latin America and Spain, his deeds and popularity grew. Lomelin’s main campaigns in Spain were in 1969, ’70 and ’71. In each of those last two years he was among the stars of bullfighting’s most prestigious festival, the Feria de San Isidro in Madrid, winning six ears from six bulls in a city where tails were not awarded.

At Logrono in 1970, he twice faced Miura bulls. Most matadors, highly superstitious, try to avoid Miuras because of their reputation as killers, though Manolete in 1947 was the last matador killed by a Miura.

On his first afternoon with the Miuras, Lomelin did poorly. On the second, they gave him both ears and the tail.

For retirement, Lomelin said, he tended toward living in Tijuana, perhaps opening a restaurant. The rush and crush of Mexico City and Acapulco, he said, no longer appeal, and Tijuana not only has business opportunities but is close to San Diego and Los Angeles, cities Lomelin likes to visit.

He and his wife, Margarita, have a daughter, Romina, 22 months. Lomelin also has sons Antonio, 18, and Patricio, 16, from a previous marriage.

And what does his wife think of his retirement?

“I haven’t asked her,” Lomelin said. “We haven’t discussed it. But I imagine she’ll be content, because she thinks she’s going to have her husband in the house all the time.”

A short while later, senior matador in his shimmering suit highlighted by gold sequins on tobacco-colored silk, he was facing the first bull of the corrida , a foe from the San Marcos ranch. Lomelin dedicated his toil to the crowd and made short work of a beast that was hooking for him.

During his opening cape passes with his second bull, Lomelin narrowly escaped the horns. When he was out of danger, there was that smile that reached the highest seats.

Then he dedicated his work to a Tijuana bullfight club whose banner was spread over the front-row railing. And the music started, “La Golondrina,” and passions began showing, the fans’ and Lomelin’s. Again, he was nearly caught. Lomelin did what he could. We gave him an ear.

Three circlings of the arena later, to the music and the flowers, the applause and the wineskins, Lomelin had said a fervent and affectionate adios to Tijuana. He waved to acknowledge his send-off. And now he had all he could do to dam the tears. Some fans had the same problem, hating to see him go, but understanding.

“I have a lot of friends here,” he said later.

Back at the hotel, well-wishers and family greeted Lomelin, who held his daughter, posed for photos, and signed programs, photos and ticket stubs. Having declined a proposed public gathering to honor him, he would dine with his family.

The next stops on his farewell campaign: Durango and Chihuahua, Monterrey, Guadalajara and more. The most wrenching will be in his hometown, Acapulco, and in Mexico City, where he will have his pigtail removed.

“I will always be a bullfighter,” he said. “The only thing that happens is that I’ll quit fighting.”