Adrenaline: A Lestappen Story

𝟐𝟏 - 𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧

There is something about Formula One cars that needs to be explained in order for anyone to truly understand the actions of Max Verstappen at that moment.

It wasn't an act of impulse; it was premeditated and carefully planned. Formula One car parts have different pricing, with some being easily replaceable and others not. The part that Carlos initially damaged on the Red Bull would require rebuilding the carbon fiber wall on the scraped side, but it's cheap and easily fixable. However, the part of Carlos's Sainz that Max chose as retaliation is one of the most expensive parts of the car—the rear end.

In a Formula One car, the rear end is where the power unit components are located. Upon being destroyed in a crash, it would not only cost millions of dollars but also force the team to replace an important part of the car, resulting in penalties for the driver in future races.

On the other hand, this crash would only cost Max his front wing. Formula One car front wings are easily replaceable and one of the cheapest parts of a Formula One car.

At the end of the day, even if Max was given a penalty for his actions, Carlos and Ferrari would still face the biggest losses in this situation.

Heading back into the Red Bull paddock, the first person to greet him was his father.

"What was that?" He shouted, the camera of television media catching the initial altercation between the two, an exclusive that would later flood the internet.

A charged silence hung in the air as father and son locked eyes, an unspoken exchange that transcended the noise of the paddock. Jos Verstappen, Max's father, bore a mix of anger and confusion etched across his face. At that point, they were further back into the pits, bearing the entrance that would block the view of the cameras.

"What the hell was that, Max?" Jos bellowed, his voice cutting through the air like a thunderclap.

Max, still clad in his racing gear, exhaled a heavy breath before answering the anger of his father. The television media, eager to capture every nuance of the drama, zoomed in on the emotional exchange, turning it into a spectacle that would soon captivate the racing world.

Max, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the race, met his father's glare with a defiant edge. "It's racing," he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of rebellion. "I had to make a move, and he wasn't giving me the fucking space," he shouted back after he removed his helmet and balaclava, so he could finally leave into the hidden hallway and away from cameras.

Jos's frustration boiled over, following Max into the hallway as he shook his head in disbelief. "Racing, Max? That move could have cost you everything! You need to think, not just act on impulse. You've got the talent, but you can't let it be clouded by recklessness." He poked his finger against the blond. "I know you, Max! I raised you better than this! This is why I didn't make it back then, stupid impulsiveness, emotion!" He scolded him. "You're just like me, and if you don't control your fucking emotions, you'll end up just like me too!"

In the midst of Jos's scolding, Max's patience snapped. Abruptly turning back, his eyes blazed with anger. "I'm nothing like you," Max retorted, pushing back against the accusations. "I'm not you. I race differently. I take risks, calculated risks. That's how you win in this sport! You were never a winner, don't fucking tell me how to be one."

As Max and Jos engaged in their heated exchange, the tension in the hallway reached its climax. In the midst of their confrontation, Max's media manager, a figure accustomed to navigating the tumultuous waters of post-race scenarios, interjected with urgency.

"Max, we need you for the post-race interview," the media manager interjected, stepping in between the two. The gravity of the moment lingered, but the professional demands of the racing world took precedence. "Let's focus on the interview right now, and we can address this later," the manager suggested, attempting to redirect the fiery energy toward the more controlled arena of media interactions.

Max, faced with his professional duties, took a deep breath in an attempt to recompose himself before reluctantly nodding in acquiescence.

There was something incredibly cruel about Formula One —the relentless media exposure that drivers are compelled to endure. Unlike their sports counterparts such as football players, who can retreat from the pitch without immediate post-game interrogations, Formula One drivers find themselves thrown into intricate interviews, regardless of the draining nature of the race, the frustrations etched on their faces, or the bone-deep exhaustion that lingers. They were forced to perform.

Open the curtains, it's time for a show of what comes from years of media training. The true spectacle of Formula One.

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