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“And for drivers like Theo Bauer—currently running P2 on aging mediums—this is a gift. If Kaz brings him in now, they can switch him onto fresh rubber without sacrificing track position. The question is which tire they choose for the final stint.” My brain ran through all the options in real time.

“They’ve got options,” I continued. “Softs give you immediate pace—grip off the restart, strong attack potential—but they risk degradation in the final laps. Hards are safer, more durable, but you sacrifice that initial bite.”

I paused, listening—really listening—to the snippets coming through.

“They’re calling him in,” I said, the excitement threading into my voice despite myself. “Kaz is committing.”

On screen, Theo peeled into the pit lane.

I tracked the stop automatically.

“Clean entry…no traffic—this is exactly what they needed.”

Tires off.

Tires on.

“Two-point-four—solid stop.”

I exhaled slowly as he rejoined.

“And he comes back out still effectively in contention,” I said. “That is textbook safety car strategy.”

I let the moment breathe for half a second.

“But here’s where it gets interesting,” I added, leaning slightly forward. “Because now Bauer has the tire advantage over the cars ahead. On the restart, he’s going to be one of the most dangerous drivers on track.” I took a deep breath as the producer signaled to a cut. Crashes, debris, and safety cars were all a part of racing. I knew this, I lived it. I let one hand fall from my microphone and tap on my thigh, refocusing on my breath. This was all a part of the gig; I would have to get used to it. I knew that. But being this close to it all, my eyes darted to a certain bright blue car on the screens as the race went by.

Not even ten laps went by before another contact between cars left debris on the track for yet another safety car while marshals cleaned up the track.

“Maisey, give us restart expectations.”

I nodded, already watching Theo weave slightly behind the safety car, building heat into the tires.

“Alright, so what we’re about to see is all about timing,” I said. “Once the safety car comes in, the leader controls the pace—but everyone behind is watching for that acceleration point.”

I gestured to the screen.

“With fresh softs, Bauer’s going to have significantly more grip than the cars ahead, especially through the first sector. If he positions this right, he could make a move almost immediately.”

A beat.

“But it’s risky.” Because it always was. “Cold brakes, tight pack, limited visibility—it only takes one miscalculation.”

Words from the radio feed popped up on the screen.

Angel: Alright Theo, push.

Theo: Nah, I’m going to slow down.

“And we’re green⁠—”

The pack surged forward.

I leaned in, eyes locked on the feed.

“There it is—Bauer’s got a great launch, look at that traction. He’s already closing—” My voice sharpened, faster now, instinct taking over. “He’s going to look down the inside—this is the move—” A breath. “He’s through.”

I couldn’t help the small, incredulous laugh that slipped out.