Max's POV.
Spa, Belgium.
It was way too early. I was used to early mornings on race weekends, but that didn't mean I was any more of a morning person. Actually, the more the FIA insisted on adding races to a season, the more I felt like crying for all the precious sleep I'd be losing out on. I wasn't lazy, I'd never had trouble getting down to business when I had to do things, but God, I loved the feeling of a good night's sleep. Back when I was a teenager, I struggled a lot with sleep. I used to roll over in bed a million times without being able to fall asleep. That would make me angry and frustrated, which made it even harder for me to focus on sleeping, which then meant that the following day I walked around with a permanent frown on my face and a hot temper.
I think maybe that's why a lot of the kids thought I was mean. In reality, I was just fucking tired. It made me volatile, and my dad's constant pushing to get me as close to perfection wasn't helping at the time. I was just this tall (Yes, back then I was one of the tallest kids, I know, I don't know what happened after I hit puberty either), chubby kid who apparently looked perpetually pissed off at everyone. I just wanted a nap, some doritos, and to be allowed to play football with my friends during the week. Back then, I was falling asleep at 4am, then getting up at 6:30 to go race in the local karting track, I had school at 8:00 but I always arrived late. Then I had to stay awake until lunch. After school it was back to the track. And then it was time for homework, dinner, rolling over in bed for a few hours, and repeat. No wonder I looked like I hated everybody. I fucking did. I'm not even sure I liked myself very much back then, but as a kid you don't really question those things, do you? You just get on with life and do what you have to do. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself I had to do. It's not like there was much of an option for me anyway.
I loved racing. I know some kids who got into the sport because their parents wanted them to. And I also know that because of who my father is and how he raised me, most people think that's the case with me too. But it really wasn't. I had to beg my dad to let me try karting. I was only 3 years old and I was running directly into the garages to touch, smell, feel, hear and look at everything whenever we went to see my older cousins race. It was only a hobby for them, but it was so much more for me. I was transfixed. I wanted to be inside the go kart and press the pedals and know what it felt like. My dad said yes, thinking I would only do it once or twice. But he had no idea. The second I experienced it for the first time, I wanted more of it. I can complain all I want about the way I was raised, and yes, if I was a father there's a million things I would do differently from my dad. But I can't say I didn't love every second I got to spend behind a wheel. So when I began competing my dad sat me down and he said: "Son, is this a hobby?" and I said "No, dad. It's everything" and so he replied "Then we make it everything. I know what it's like to fail at something you dedicate your whole life to, it's soul crushing. And I don't want that for you, I don't want you to feel that way. So, if to you this is everything, we will make it everything, together."
And so it began. I know he genuinely did everything because he never wanted me to feel the pain of knowing you've wasted your life on something that didn't work out. It happened to him. He sacrificed his life for Formula 1, and it didn't work. He lost his family and his career, and it made him frustrated and angry, and violent at times. He didn't want that for me. I just don't think he realized that by raising me the way he did, he was setting me up to become just as angry as he was. I'm telling you, us Verstappen men? We could write a book about dysfunctional families. I don't justify him or the things he's done in the past, but he did the best he could with whatever tools he had.
I say all of this to say: My dad was angry at me, a 25 year old man, for showing up 10 minutes late to a team briefing. He already wasn't fond of the fact that I refused to do track walks (pointless things they are, why would I waste five precious minutes of sleep to walk around a track I've obsessively raced around in a simulator for 9 hours a day?), but showing up late with no plausible excuse? That was another layer of unprofessionalism he wasn't tolerating.
"I'm just saying, you know better. You're the World Champion, you need to set the example." he stomped angrily beside me in that usual way he did, half huffing, half whisper-yelling.
"I set the example by showing up and doing my job. The first ten minutes it's mostly people gossiping about paddock drama anyway, I couldn't care less." I replied, walking faster through the corridors of the Red Bull Racing hospitality.
"Being a dickhead to your team won't get you anywhere, look at me." he said, and he was right. He wasn't necessarily known for being a joy to work with. He stabbed a mechanic with a fork once.
"It's gotten me pretty far, I'd say." Also true. A lot of people didn't like me, yet I was still a two time World Champion.
"You're nothing like me, son." he replied, and when I turned to look at him, he had his eyes on me. "These people here love you, you owe them respect."
I clenched my jaw, feeling like a stupid kid yet again. "I know. I just overslept. It won't happen again. It's not like I'm always late." I justified. God, I really was acting like a 13 year old.
My dad was visiting for the weekend, which meant he hung around in the garage and the hospitality and generally stressed me out until his wife (truly a godsend, that woman) put her hand on his shoulder and said something among the lines of "Come on, sweetie, leave the kid alone, he can handle himself". And surprisingly, it always worked like a charm.
Truth is, the time my dad spent being single between his second and third wives was crucial for him. He'd stopped drinking, he'd gone to some kind of counseling retreat, and after that, he'd met Sandy and his life had gotten significantly back on track ever since. Sure, he was still a hot-headed asshole, and he's arrogant and rude most of the time, but he wasn't violent. He didn't need to hurt others to feel in control. Part of me liked seeing the way he treats my two youngest siblings as if he's too scared that if he looks at them for too long they will break. But the other part of me wishes that had been me. I would probably be a lot different now if I'd been afforded the same grace. I love my dad, I do. And he loves me too. But he's hurt me too much for me to ever have a normal relationship with him.
"I'm going in now." I said, pointing at the meeting room that was only a few feet away from us. "I'll see you guys later." I said, ruffling my 4-year-old brother Jason's hair as he looked up at me in admiration from behind his mom's legs.
My 3-year-old sister, Mila, was comfortably perched up on my step mom's hip as she held her in her arms, and I leaned forward to press a loud kiss to her cheek, smiling at her like she was the light of my life. God, I love those kids with my entire heart. I made a mental note to call Blue. Out of all my siblings she was the one I saw the least, because the 9-year-old lives with her mother, my dad's second wife, so the only time I see her nowadays is during the holidays and whenever I race in Zandvoort and her mom drives her over to the track. Every time I saw her she'd just gotten taller and so much cooler. I felt like with all the traveling F1 had me doing, I was missing so much of her life that I'd never get to experience. Victoria, my 24 year old sister, lives only about an hour and a half away from Blue's house, so they see each other often. And the little ones see her every weekend because dad's got shared custody now. If I'm being honest, every time I see her I'm scared she'll have forgotten about me, or that we will have nothing to talk about, or that she'll somehow resent me for being a shitty brother and never being around. But every single time she surprises me with how kind, smart, funny and fucking weird she is. Definitely the best of us, that one.
Brushing away the thoughts of my sister momentarily, I opened up the door to the meeting room and walked in with an apologetic smile on my face as I slid into my usual seat. "Hi guys, sorry I was late. Won't happen again." I said.
"No problem, we're just drinking coffee and getting ready to start." said Christian with a smile on his face.
I nodded and thanked Christian's assistant Marie who handed me a folder with data that was collected during the practice sessions and the qualy, along with strategy options that we'd go through with Hannah, weather reports, track condition examinations and the sort. I'd already gone over all of this information last night, curled up in bed with my iPad in hand and last year's race playing in the background from my hotel room's TV. I knew Spa like the back of my hand, I grew up just around the area, so in a way it felt more like a home race than Zandvoort did. I loved the Netherlands and all the opportunities it had given me, I also loved it because that's where most of my family lives. But Belgium feels like home. Belgium is my childhood, it's me running around the hills with Victoria and hitting the local karting track together, it's me bothering her and her friends when they were filming youtube videos, it's my mom and her hot chocolate in the winter and lighting candles for me before every race, it's my first pet, and my first school, and my first crush that didn't like me back because I just didn't talk enough. I have two homes, so I hate it when people ask me whether I'm Belgian or Dutch. I am both. But Spa was special, I knew every turn, every corner, every straight, hell I could race it with my eyes closed. I'm sure of it. Although that would be unnecessarily dangerous.
"So, how many pit stops are we looking at?" I asked, looking at a graph of possible tire strategies for the race.
"Two to three, depending on the weather conditions. You know how it's been lately" said Hannah, our lead strategist. She is a fucking beast.
"We shouldn't be racing in bad conditions here again." I say, shaking my head. "It's the same shit every year, it's like they want us to hurt ourselves for entertainment purposes. In 2019 it was Anthoine, this year it was Dilano. And we've still got the barriers in front of our noses. Why can't they pull them back?" I asked to absolutely no one, because I knew we were all thinking the same.
"If you want us to, we can make a statement about that, or bring it up at the driver's briefing." Christian suggested.
"Oh we'll definitely bring it up, George is taking care of it." As the current president of the F1 drivers' union, George Russell usually dealt with the big complaints we wanted to make to the FIA, and we all backed him on this one. "I'll probably mention it in an interview or something if I get asked about it."
"You probably will, honestly. Dilano's death is still very recent, and if you guys make a complaint to the FIA about the barriers, people will make questions" confirmed Alice, our press officer.
"I don't mind answering them." I said.
"Yes, Micah?" Christian said, pointing at the figure sitting further along the table and shyly raising her hand to speak. This was the second time I catch her second guessing herself, almost shaking at the prospect of having to speak in front of an audience. I'd heard her scribbling away in a journal she kept with her at all times since I'd walked into the room, she pressed her pencil so harshly against the paper it created a sound.
"I'm just thinking, why don't we include the complaint about the barriers in the documentary? It can show that he cares about his and the other drivers' safety, and it can maybe shed light into the cause?" I wasn't going to admit it out loud, but that was actually a good idea. As manipulative as it felt to have to exploit a good cause in order for people to believe I'm not a terrible person. After all, I could see the cameras pointing at us from the corner of the room, they were most likely going to shoot at least a portion of this meeting, probably on mute, just for documentary content. We might as well use this new medium of communication to let the fans know what us drivers felt about the tracks where we risked (and in some cases lost) our lives.
Christian must've sensed my discomfort, because he looked over at me as if he was looking for my approval, but I nodded back at him, for the greater good. "Only if Max feels up to it."
"Yeah, I mean, I should talk to George first, get his opinion on how he wants to go about it, but I think it's not a terrible idea." I spoke, refusing to give her the privilege of knowing I actually was depending on her.
All she did was nod politely, eyes trained on Christian as if I wasn't sitting right there and she wasn't talking about me and my career. But I couldn't fault her for trying to remain professional seeing as the only times we actually spoke we ended up bickering. Maybe communication in the form of nods or head shakes was our best option. The sound of her furious jotting down on her journal brought me back to reality as I looked away from her and at Christian.
"By the way, speaking of the documentary, Micah and the crew will be following you around for the rest of the day. We'll try to maximize the content so the first episode can go into post-production and editing tomorrow and it will come out on Wednesday." he explained.
"Right on time for the beginning of the summer break, makes sense." I nodded. "What are we going to do during the break, though? Like, my life is really not that interesting outside of racing." I countered.
"We'll talk about that at a latter time, for now let's just focus on today" he answered with a smile on his face, but I knew better than that, I knew he was planning something and I also knew that I probably wasn't going to like it if he didn't tell me what it was about right away.
I knew I would have to spend more time around Micah, and to say that I looked forward to seeing her know-it-all face would've been a lie. She walked around as if she thought she was better and smarter than me. And I might not have a fancy college degree, but I was no fool. The way she acted like she had her whole life together was clearly fake, I'd seen her hesitate and tremble with nerves form behind the camera. Everyone seemed to love having her around, I guess I just didn't see the appeal. Anyway, it's not like I had much of a choice. I would surely be spending most of my break in her presence, I could only pray we didn't end up murdering each other.
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Micah's POV.
Spa, Belgium.
2pm.
The race was about to begin and I was sat comfortably on a chair beside the mechanics gathered around the screens in the Red Bull Racing garage. My day had consisted almost entirely of just following Max around yet doing nothing at all since all of the footage was going to go into post in its raw form, I wasn't asking any questions. The clips of the briefing this morning were going to be accompanied by music so nobody would be able to hear what was discussed there. Then Nick and the crew filmed the seat fitting in full, with Max going as far as giving the cameras a tour of the garage and the hospitality facilities. And then we went our own ways to have lunch in the paddock club.
Despite tagging along with Max for most of the day, we hadn't spoken more than five words to each other the whole time we'd been together. It was fine by me, although the feeling that he was purposely ignoring me pissed me off just as much as he did whenever he opened his mouth. He clearly didn't respect my work more than I respected his permanent attitude, and every time he walked around with his head held high like he owned the place, the superiority complex he irradiated was more and more evident. But I wasn't going to give in. If he didn't deem me important enough to speak to me like a normal person, I'd keep my distance too until it was absolutely necessary.
I decided, as I sat down and placed the headphones that would allow me to hear his driver's radio during the race over my ears, that I was going to make the most out of this. Being here was an absolute dream, I would get to experience the sport I loved so much from an entirely new perspective, and nothing was going to change how excited I was about that. So, as I watched the formation lap in the big screens and felt everyone around me buzzing with anticipation, I told myself I was going to enjoy today. I'd think about dealing with Max Verstappen later.
The first ten laps everything seemed to be going smoothly for the team, even having Checo up in P3 after a series of awful qualifying sessions, it was looking like the chances of a double podium for the team were high. Max was leading by four seconds already, and with Charles Leclerc losing grip in that god-awful-tire-devouring Ferrari, he was most likely going to make that distance grow by a lot. The team was having a great time, extremely focused on the race, sharing low whispers and discussing possible strategies that the pit wall might come up with. Every time Max set a fastest lap (5 times already), the entire team erupted in laughter and pure unadulterated joy, and I had to admit that as much as I didn't particularly like the guy, his team clearly loved him.
It was also true that he seemed to love his job, and he treated everyone on the team with so much respect it made me feel even crazier that he wouldn't so much as spare a glance at me.
By lap 21 out of 44, the radio opened up and GP spoke clearly. "Alright, Max. Let's box for hards and try to go for plan A. I repeat, we follow plan A." The mechanics around me quickly shot up from their seats to get in position for the pit stop, and I wasn't sure what <<plan A>> entailed, so I looked over at one of the few that stayed behind and I asked him. "It means we're going two stops. Mediums-Hards-Mediums." he replied, and I nodded quickly, looking out the garage entrance the second Max parked his car for the pit stop. It was over in the blink of an eye and I looked back at the guy beside me with nothing but admiration. "God, you guys are too good at this." I joked, which made him chuckle a little. "Our champ deserves it." he said, truly looking genuinely proud of Max. And I knew they were all happy about the achievements of their team.
Thankfully, the camera crew had caught that little moment, which would be good for the audience to see just how much the team spoke wonders of Max. That would surely help with the image we were trying to project onto him. By lap 35 it was a sure Red Bull 1-2 with Checo 6 seconds behind Max, and Hamilton and Leclerc battling for P3 ten seconds behind him. Another successful day for team Red Bull, and I couldn't help it when the buzzing excitement of my surroundings started to get to me.
By the time lap 43 ended I was on my feet, ready to celebrate with everyone else when Max set the last fastest lap to take home another win, this time in the country where he'd been born. And that's what happened, we all jumped up in excitement, huge smiles on our faces, and I truly felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Momentarily, I was part of the team, I was part of my favorite sport in a way that felt so much more significant than a few throwaway interviews around the paddock. I even accepted a Red Bull cap that Alice, their press officer placed atop my head mid-celebration. In that moment, nothing mattered, my dreams were all coming true and I couldn't possibly be happier.
We took off running, cameras still filming as we giggled away in nothing but joyful strides making our way to the podium ceremony. And as I stood down there, looking up at Charles, Checo, and yes, even Max, I couldn't help but feel a huge admiration for what they'd just done on track. I had to give it to him, it looked as if he'd been born to spray champagne on the top step of a podium.
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Hi!! In this chapter we got to pick Max's brain quite a bit. In later chapters we'll do the same and learn more about Micah's life. I hope you liked this one!! They're currently ignoring each other in an attempt to not blow up at each other in public but who knows how long that will last lol
Thank you for reading, seriously!! 💖 Keep the comments coming, I'd love to read what you guys think about the story so far!!!