He’s right on my ass going into Turn 1. I hold a defensive inside line, forcing him to take the longer outside route. There’s a limit to what I can do – the car’s still unstable and prone to locking up – but covering corners and late apex blocking are within my means.
As we exit Turn 3 and make it onto the straight, my instincts are screaming at me to put my foot down and keep the AlphaPrime from getting within DRS. It’s a classic overtaking zone, long and uphill. A chef’s kiss for slipstream.
But my teammate’s too close. He’ssupposedto be pulling away, that’s why I’m doing this whole charade. When I check my mirrors, I catch a flash of fluorescent yellow. DFK are here. That’s just peachy. Three attackers and no weapons.
This ispainful.
The Alpha Prime makes to dive down my inside. He pulls out of the slipstream and I edge toward the inside barrier, claiming the defensive line into Turn 4. I’m sacrificing corner exit speed, but it blocks a neat overtake.
At Turn 5, he tries again. There’s a flash of lime green in my periphery. Holy f— he’sright there.
Here goes nothing.
I hold my breath as I brake late, later than I ever have in this car, praying prayingprayingshe sustains. If she locks up, this race is done. I keep the tyres right on the edge as I send the car wide enough to squeeze him out.
By the time I hit Turn 8, I have the courage to look to my left. The lime green’s vanished.
It worked. Itworked. And I didn’t lock up!
I check my rear mirrors and the Alpha Prime’s backing off. All that battling’s fucked his tyres. Hell yes, we did it! For now. They’ll restrategise and come back swinging, but I can breathe for a minute. My balls are molten in here. Who thought it was a good idea to host a grand prix in a desert? I don’t care if it’s nighttime, it’s still sweltering.
The grin slides off my face when I catch sight of my teammate. What’swrongwith him? I’ve been sucking up time battling for my life, and he’sstill there? He should be way ahead by now! I’m losing a second a lap, and he?—
He’s in the barrier.
He just missed Turn 10 and drove headlong into a DNF.
OhC’MON.
How in the world did he pull that off? Bahrain’s 90% wide runoff. Finding the only place close to a barrier took real skill. What’s he going to be like at tight street circuits like Monaco and Singapore? I slam my gloved fist against the wheel. What a rookie. And they mademebabysithim? Isn’t that swell.
I threw my race for nothing. My tyres are spent having defended lap after lap. And the gap between me and the RaceX in front is eight seconds. Might as well be eight years. I don’t have a hope of catching up. P13 it is, if I can hold on to it. This is the closest we’ve ever had to points – the first race I’ve felt in sync with the car; the first pit stop the crew aced; the first time we’ve had anything like cohesion.
And now our chances are in the dust.
My teammate says his brakes gave up on him and there was nothing he could do. I call bullshit. I know when I see a late, panicked stomp.
The atmosphere in the garage is terrible, even though I managed to finish – in P15, because my tyres were so spent the Alpha Prime and Maxim Performance clawed their places back after the safety car ended.
The Australian TV crew at the mouth of the garage shitting all over the team isn’t helping things.
‘What a disastrous weekend for Leone. Four races in and more failure. A flash of promise, but no follow-through. At some point you have to ask if this little development team is capable of competing at this level.’
She realises we can hear her, right? I’m sitting on a mechanics’ chair near the back and I can catch every word.
The crew work so hard pulling regular eighteen-hour days. They don’t deserve to have their effort and sacrifice mocked bysome snooty bitch wearing a pantsuit in the desert. It’s not their fault our team principal and strategists made yet another bad call. Their dejection hollows me out.
One of the engineers strides close to me and I seize my chance.
‘Hey man, are you guys ready to talk?—’
‘It’s alright, Tiago, we’ve got what we need. You can go home.’
I nod to the back of his retreating head, trying to balance being the better teammate with the frustration building in my chest. I noticed some interesting things about the battery deployment on the straights that I think could inform future setups, but I don’t see what else I can do except for writing my insights on a piece of paper and leaving it on the desk. These guys need all the help they can get. I don’t know why they can’t see that.
I’m not used to having all this free time. We’re not invited to press conferences, broadcasters don’t want us for interviews, brands don’t consider us for activations, my engineers don’t want me for detailed debriefs, and if I get waved over in the media pen, I spend the whole time defending everything we do to journalists like that butthead.
‘I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?’ JC says, striding into the garage.
