“I don’t know where the podium is!” Matt yells. He dodges a Sobber crew member and weaves between a couple of guys in Wilhelms gear.
“Find a Red Boar!” Robert’s much faster. “They’ll know.”
Matt’s terrible at cardio, but he picks up the pace the moment he spots a Red Boar team kit.
The cameramen have spotted him, but Matt still can’t figure out where he’s supposed to go. The broadcast screens show him running through the paddock spliced with clips of the Red Boar drivers in the cool down room.
Matt’s never been to the cool down room. He’s going tomiss it!
The crowd swells around the podium, but Matt can’t figure out how to get from the audience part to behind the stage.
“That way!” Robert stops ahead of him and turns, pointing to a doorway guarded by people in suits. “Go there! I’m gonna fight the crowd for a better view.”
“Yeah, okay.”
A view of the stage. The stage with the podium. The podium Matt will be standing on.
The crowd parts for him as he wades his way to the overhang. The people in suits usher him back, through the doorway and all the way to the cool down room.
“Get lost?” Three-Time World Champion, Lucas Bauer, asks. He even looks right at Matt as he speaks.
“I di-didn’t know that I—” Matt gestures to the room at large as he tries to catch his breath.
“Y’know, I thought ya took Rafael out at the start.” Samuel Campbell is smiling at him.Smiling. “I woulda bought ya a beer for that—but I reckon podium champagne’ll do.”
Champagne. “Yeah, i-it’ll do.”
Matt knows the drill—he picks up the third-place hat from the pedestal and takes a swig from the provided water bottle. More than anything, he tries to calm his heart rate and look like he belongs amongst two of the greatest Formation 1 drivers of all time.
They’re escorted backstage and Matt can’t stop shaking. He’s actually backstage for his own podium ceremony.
“This is your first time?” Lucas asks.
Matt nods. “Yeah, in Form 1, at least.”
“Just don’t trip,” Sam says with a smirk. “Don’t think about the millions of people watching. I always trip when I think too hard about it. Justtens of millionsof people in their houses watching your every move. Don’t think about them and do not trip.”
Lucas smacks him, but the damage has already been done.Tens of millionsof people. Like the huge crowd forming in front of the stage isn’t terrifying enough.
The announcer calls Matt’s name and the stage manager signals for him to go. On the way, he stumbles over a cable he hadn’t noticed—much to Sam’s cackling delight.
Once he’s finally on stage, Matt manages to step up to the podium without issue. The sunshine is blinding, and he squints against it to search for his team.
He finds Robert first. The other driver is drowning in fans who have noticed he’s there and vie for his attention, but his eyes stay solely on Matt. He waves when they make eye contact, and Matt blinks, quickly looking away.
When Sam’s name is called, the Red Boar driver passes in front of him, stepping up to the second-place rung. Matt’s still not entirely sure any of this is actually happening. There’s a strong possibility that he’s hallucinating, that the whole day is just a very vivid dream.
Lucas is next, and Matt decides that, even if it is a dream, he’s going to take it all in—to remember this as if it was his podium forever.
He removes his hat for the national anthems and spends both songs distracted, running his thumb over the stitching of the embroidery.
Fuck, it feels real.
He’s handed a trophy that is much heavier than he expected. Matt hoists it up, towards the pink and blue clad group near the back, so they could see what their team did. They’re also latecomers to their own podium, but their cheers are loud enough to reach the stage.
Matt’s distracted by them for long enough that he doesn’t catch the first notes of “Carmen” until it’s too late. He’s immediately soaked with champagne—blinded with it by expertchampagne-wielders. After setting the trophy down, he stumbles for his own bottle.
Once he finally hooks a hand around the neck, Lucas says, “Keep it! Don’t waste it on us, take it to your team!”
