People think it's just a bunch of guys in white shirts running away from steak. It’s not. When you’re standing in a cramped cobblestone alley in Pamplona, smelling the damp stone and the sweat of three thousand nervous tourists, the reality of how many people died in the bull run starts to feel a lot less like a bucket-list item and a lot more like a survival gamble.
The San Fermín festival is famous. Or infamous. Depends on who you ask.
Since 1910, when officials actually started keeping track of the fatalities with some level of accuracy, 16 people have died in the Pamplona bull run. That number might sound low to some, or shockingly high to others, but it doesn’t even begin to cover the "gorings." Getting "picked up" by a horn is a terrifyingly common occurrence. Every year, between 50 and 100 people are hospitalized during the eight-day festival. Some lose legs. Some lose chunks of muscle. Most just lose their dignity while sprinting in the wrong direction.
Breaking down the death toll in Pamplona
So, 16 deaths in over a century. That’s the official count for the Encierro in Pamplona. But you have to look at the "why" and the "how" to understand the risk.
The first recorded death in the modern era was Esteban Domeño in 1924. He was 22. He wasn't even hit by a bull initially; he was caught in a pile-up at the entrance to the bullring. That’s the thing people forget. The bulls are scary, sure, but the people are often more dangerous. When someone trips, a human "knot" forms. If you're at the bottom of a stack of twenty grown men and a 1,300-pound animal decides to use you as a stepping stone, the math doesn't look good for your ribs.
Most fatalities happen because of a "suelto." That’s a bull that gets separated from the pack. A lone bull is a terrified bull. When they stay together in the manada, they usually just want to get to the end of the street. But a stray bull turns around. It charges.
Take the case of Matthew Tassio in 1995. He was a 22-year-old American. He tripped, tried to get up—which is the number one thing they tell you not to do—and a bull named Castellano gored him through the abdomen. It severed his aorta. He was dead before he really knew what happened. It was a sobering moment for the thousands of Americans who fly over every July thinking it's a giant frat party.
It’s not just Pamplona: The hidden numbers in Valencia and beyond
If you only look at Pamplona, you're missing the bigger picture of how many people died in the bull run across the rest of Spain. There are thousands of smaller festivals. Bous al Carrer in the Valencia region or the Encierros in Madrid’s outskirts.
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2022 was a bloodbath.
That year alone, at least 10 people died in bull-running events across the country. In the Valencia region, they had seven deaths in one summer. One of them was a French citizen in his 60s. Another was a local councilor. These aren't just reckless tourists; often, it’s the locals who get too comfortable. They think they know the animal. They don't. A bull has a reaction time that makes a human athlete look like they're moving through molasses.
Why the numbers are trending up (and down)
Medical technology is the only reason that death toll isn't in the hundreds. The surgeons in the Pamplona bullring are arguably the world's leading experts in "horn wounds." They see injuries that look like shark bites. If you get gored in the 1920s, you die of sepsis or internal bleeding. In 2026, they have you on an operating table within ninety seconds.
The "mozo" (the runner) has changed too. It used to be a local rite of passage. Now, it's a global spectacle.
Crowding is the new killer. If you have 2,000 people on a street designed for 500, no one can move. You can't escape. You can't jump the fence. You’re just a part of a slow-moving wave of meat. That’s where the "montón" (the pile-up) happens. In 2013, there was a massive crush at the entrance to the plaza. People were suffocating at the bottom of a human pile while the bulls were literally walking over their heads. It's a miracle no one died that day.
The anatomy of a goring
What does it actually look like when things go wrong?
It’s fast.
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A bull’s horn isn't a clean needle. It’s jagged. It’s dirty. When it enters the thigh—the most common spot—it doesn't just go in and out. The bull tosses its head. This creates "trajectories." A single entry wound can have three or four different internal paths where the horn has shredded muscle and moved arteries.
Daniel Jimeno Romero was the last person to die in Pamplona, back in 2009. A bull named Capuchino caught him in the neck. It was a freak accident, but it highlights the vulnerability. You’re wearing a cotton shirt and pants. The bull has four inches of sharpened bone and half a ton of muscle behind it.
Common myths about the danger
- "The bulls are out to kill you." Honestly, they're just trying to get to the corral. They are herbivores. They are prey animals. Their instinct is to clear a path. If you stay still against a wall, they often ignore you.
- "Red makes them angry." Bulls are colorblind to red. They react to movement. If you're waving your arms like a windmill, you’re the target.
- "Drunk people are the only ones who get hurt." Actually, the police try to pull drunks out of the line before the rocket goes off. Most people who die are sober and just unlucky or overconfident.
Survival is about the "Suerte"
In Spain, they talk about suerte—luck. You can be the fastest runner in the world, but if the guy in front of you slips on a patch of sangria-soaked cobblestone, you’re going down too.
To understand how many people died in the bull run, you have to respect the tradition's weight. It’s a dance with death that most of the world has sanitized out of existence. Is it cruel? Many think so. Is it a vital part of Navarrese identity? Absolutely.
The death of an American in 1995 or a Spaniard in 2009 doesn't stop the festival. The next morning, at 8:00 AM, the rocket goes off again. The streets are hosed down. The blood is gone. The runners are back.
Critical safety realities if you’re going
If you're actually planning on doing this, don't be an idiot.
First, learn the route. Santo Domingo is the fastest part—uphill and terrifying. Calle Estafeta is the long straightaway where the bulls can really pick up speed. The "curva" is where the bulls often slide into the wall because of centrifugal force. Don't stand on the outside of that curve. That's how you become a pancake.
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Second, if you fall, stay down. Wrap your arms around your head and play dead. If you try to get up, you're at the perfect height for a horn to catch your chest or throat. Let the bulls and the people run over you. It'll hurt, but you'll probably live.
Third, don't touch the bulls. It’s illegal, it’s disrespectful, and it distracts them. A distracted bull is a bull that stops and turns around. And as we've seen from the stats, a bull that turns around is usually the one that adds to the death toll.
The cultural cost of the statistics
The debate over the bull run isn't just about human lives. The animal rights movement in Spain has grown massively in the last decade. While the number of human deaths is tracked meticulously, the fact that all six bulls from the run are killed in the afternoon bullfight is the real "death toll" for many critics.
But for the corredores, the risk is the point.
Without the possibility of being the next statistic in the tally of how many people died in the bull run, the event loses its "truth." It’s a grim way to look at it, but in a world where everything is padded and insured, San Fermín remains raw.
Actionable steps for the curious or the brave
If you are researching this because you want to attend or participate, here is the reality check:
- Check the official San Fermín website for the most updated safety protocols. They've tightened rules on GoPro cameras and backpacks—both of which can get you or someone else killed.
- Watch the run from a balcony first. You can rent spots on Estafeta or Santo Domingo. It’s expensive, but seeing the speed of the animals from above changes your perspective on the "fun" of the run.
- Review the historical goring maps. Local Spanish newspapers often publish heat maps of where the most injuries occur. Avoid the "Callejón" (the narrow tunnel into the ring) if you aren't an expert; it's a death trap for the inexperienced.
- Understand the legal liability. If you get hurt, you're responsible. The Spanish healthcare system is great, but don't expect a payout because you decided to play tag with a Miura bull.
The numbers tell a story of a dangerous, chaotic, and deeply human event. Sixteen deaths in Pamplona since 1910 is a small number in the grand scheme of global sports, but for the families of those sixteen, the "Suerte" simply ran out. Respect the animal, respect the street, and maybe, just maybe, stay behind the wooden barricades.