Chapter Text

The first weekend of November begins with Eggsy cooking in your apartment’s kitchen.

You blink at him, slowly shutting the front door behind you. This happens sometimes, the boys showing up at your place and letting themselves in with the spare keys Past-You was stupid enough to give them. Truthfully, you don’t mind their presence, it’s just normally you get some kind of semi-polite head’s up text instead of making the spontaneous discovery when you return home from your afternoon gym session drenched in sweat. 

“Nice of you to drop in, Eggsy,” you say. Then you sniff the air, eyes widening with alarm even as your mouth waters. “Oh my God, you made chicken tacos.”

“And avocado salad,” he replies, without looking up from the cutting board where he’s diligently chopping perfectly marinated chicken thighs into smaller pieces.

You start toeing off your sneakers, brow creasing. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour or so ago. Caught a red-eye flight then took a cab.”

Oh shit, you think, wrestling your backpack off your shoulders. A red-eye flight and a cooking session? This is more serious than you thought.

Everybody’s got their own eccentric trait or two. Little quirks that set them apart from the rest of the world. The thing with Eggsy is he becomes a Michelin star chef when he’s stressed out about something. And that ‘something’ could be small like he can’t remember if he told his beloved pug JB he loved him before leaving for a race, or it could be major like he was papped joining in a drunken pub fight and possibly jeopardized his whole career. It’s all or nothing with Eggsy, and since he’s known to get snappish when confronted with questions, there’s not much you can do until he decides to reveal his current crisis besides eat his delicious food and try not to let the increasing speed of your heartbeat induce a panic attack.

“So,” you begin in-between bites of chicken-and-avocado goodness, forcing yourself to actually chew and savor the tacos instead of scarfing them down like an animal. “I’m pretty sure Diana tried to kill me today.”

Across the small circular kitchen table you found at a local thrift store, Eggsy snorts with amusement. “You say that like you haven’t accused her of murder a dozen times before.”

“She threw a dumbbell at my head.”

“You probably deserved it.”

You’re tempted to throw an avocado chunk at him, but it’s too good to sacrifice and instead you settle for silently glaring at him.

His answering smile is a mere shade of his usual mischievous grin, and he looks back down at his plate, poking at the contents with a fork. 

Leaning forward, you fix your expression into one of casual nonchalance, not letting any of your bubbling concern leak through in the lines around your eyes or mouth. “You sticking around for the whole weekend with me or—?”

He looks at you then, the first noticeable flicker of nervousness on his face. “Shit, I forgot to ask if you were free, didn’t I?”

“Well, yeah, but,” you’re quick to hold up a calming hand before he does anything stupid like run out the door, “it’s cool, Eggsy. We can hang out tomorrow after training. Or you could totally come along—I’m sure Diana would love another victim to bully around.”

“Thanks,” he says, scratching at his jawline and going back to avoiding direct eye contact. “I’ve got a few calls to make tomorrow though, so…” A small shrug of his shoulders. “Plus, I think Charlie might feel a little betrayed if I went to another trainer. He’s the jealous type.”

You chuckle as you reach for your water bottle, imagining the older Brit stomping his foot like a toddler who’s been forced to share his favorite toy. 

“Statesman asked me to join their team next season.”

You promptly spit out your drink, eliciting a disgusted complaint from across the table, and manage to ask in-between pained wheezes, “What?”

“Van Chance also asked if I’d be their reserve driver.”

“Eggsy,” you gape at him, brain struggling to catch up with the back-to-back bombshells.

He buries his face into his hands. “I know.”

“What the fuck.”

“I know,” he’s on the verge of whining now, peeking at you through the gaps of his fingers.

You start to smile, only for it to falter when you realize how positively unexcited he looks at the amazing news. Like he’s two seconds away from crawling under the table and curling into the fetal position.

“Is this…” You tilt your head, hesitantly asking, “Is this not good news?”

Eggsy lowers his hands, leveling you with an incredulous look. “This is the greatest fucking news of my whole life.”

“Then why the hell are you stress cooking in my kitchen?”

“It’s not stress cooking.” Eggsy shakes his head, scoffing just a little too loudly. “I just cobbled this together with stuff from your fridge, it’s no big deal—”

“Eggsy,” you interrupt, voice calm but firm. “I know for a fact the contents of my fridge did not contain six chicken thighs or corn tortillas or avocados when I left for the gym this morning. Face it, buddy, you stress shopped and then you stress cooked.”

There’s a second where it looks like his stubbornness is going to prevail, but it’s extinguished in the next beat, shoulders slumping with defeat. “Aw fuck.”

Aw fuck indeed.

Considering drivers aren’t supposed to talk to each other about these kind of deals—something something confidentiality is key blah blah legal jargon—it says a lot about Eggsy’s nervousness that he's come all this way to speak with you. It says a lot about your friendship, too.

Propping your chin on your hand, you softly ask, “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Eggsy lets out an explosive sigh, leaning back in his seat like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “I just don’t think I’m Formula One material,” he admits finally.

“What? Of course you are!” you exclaim.

“I’m not like all those guys,” he argues. “I haven’t won a Formula championship.”

“Neither have I.”

“Yeah, but you’re—” he waves a hand, vaguely gesturing.

It takes a second for understanding to sink in, and when it does you immediately bristle, temper flaring. “A woman? Are you seriously suggesting I only got into F1 because of my–”

“What? No! No,” Eggsy denies vehemently, eyes widening, reaching out a hand to grip onto your wrist, a reassuring touch. “That’s not what I was saying at all, I swear. I meant that you’re you, Oddball. It doesn’t matter if you’ve won a championship or not ‘cause you’re twice as much of a badass as any of them.”

You take hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Damn right I am,” you agree, trying to get him to laugh or at least crack a smile. “And you need to give yourself more credit. You deserve a seat in F1 just as much as the others do. It wasn’t some random fluke two teams reached out with contracts.”

His mouth twists, unconvinced. “But what if it was though? What if the only reason they reached out is because of the 1% chance I’ll beat Ben in the final round and when I don’t do that they dump me on the fucking curb?”

“Then they’re absolute dicks.”

Eggsy’s frown deepens. “I’m being serious, Odds.”

“So am I,” you say. “If they can’t see your talent then fuck ‘em. It’s as simple as that.”

He stares at you for a moment, the little pinch between his eyebrows indicating he’s thinking about your words, turning them round in his head. 

“Also if you’re not there, then it’s just going to be me and Ben and you know we’ll drive each other mad.”

At last Eggsy smiles, rolling his eyes. “There it is. The real reason you want me to join. It was never about my talent as a driver, it was about my talent as a babysitter.”

You pinch your index finger and thumb together. “Only just a little bit.”

He playfully cuffs your jaw with the bumps of his knuckles. “Thanks, Odds,” he murmurs. 

“Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”

The Brit nods, only for his nose to suddenly scrunch up like he’s smelled something rotten.

“What?”

“No offense,” he begins, slowly leaning away, “but a shower would really benefit you right now.”

This time you don’t hesitate throwing an avocado chunk directly at his dumb face.

HoloNet

November 2022 Latest News

Statesman confirms Eggsy for 2023
WWS - 45 minutes ago

Statesman has announced British driver Gary 'Eggsy' Unwin will drive for the team alongside Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels in 2023...

All F1 seats filled: Eggsy Unwin signs for Statesman
Formula1Daily - 3 hours ago

Statesman team principal Jefferson Champagne said: "Eggsy has had a mighty impressive F2 season. We look forward to him joining us."

Future Statesman driver Eggsy Unwin's focus is on the F2 championship
BBB - 5 hours ago

Eggsy says the recent announcement of his future F1 career is not going to distract him from the goal of beating Ben Miller at the upcoming final round of F2...

PODCAST EPISODE

Javi Gutierrez Interview 2022

Off Track & Up Close with Sean Knox

Episode Description: This week I sat down and talked with Javi Gutierrez! Only 25 years old, Javi has learned several valuable lessons about life and racing throughout his career in F1. We started our chat reflecting on his rookie debut in 2018 with Crane (4:50), what he wishes he’d known before entering F1 (7:00), his strict training regimen (10:06), how he deals with the stress and pressure of the sport (16:34), and what insight he gained during his second season of F1 after he joined Black Gold (24:12). 

In the second half, Javi discusses his transfer from Black Gold to Triple Frontier (28:44), finding out Dave York was given his previously promised seat with Black Gold (32:58), the opportunity to join Vulpecula (35:19) and teaming up with rookie Oddball next season (38:30), his goals he hopes to accomplish as an F1 driver (40:40), and his advice for any young drivers out there who want to start racing (49:11). 

*

Sean Knox: You’ve signed with Vulpecula for next season. Congratulations! Always great news worth celebrating when a driver secures a seat. I gotta ask though, since it’s going to be your fourth team in your career, is it a good thing or a bad thing to flip flop around like that? 

Javi Gutierrez: It wasn’t something I expected to happen by any means. Most drivers will agree when I say you need at least two seasons to get fully used to a team—their strategies, their technology, the design of their cars. With Crane I only got one year, and essentially that’s what I’ve also had with Triple Frontier since it felt almost like I had to hit the ground running when I joined them during last year’s midseason. I had my personal best results the two and a half seasons I was with Black Gold because I had the time to become familiar with their dynamics. So, no, I don’t think it’s a particularly good thing, flip flopping around as you said, but I’m also extremely grateful for the opportunity to keep racing and improve my skills.

Knox: It must be such a relief then, having signed a two-year deal with Vulpecula from the start. 

Gutierrez: Immense relief, yes. I’m looking forward to it.

Knox: Maybe even snag your first podium with them?

Gutierrez: Fingers crossed.

*

Knox: For the first time in your career in F1, you’re going to be the #1 driver on a team. How does it feel, having that extra bit of responsibility being the leader? Do you feel ready for the role?

Gutierrez: I thought I would feel nervous, but strangely enough I actually feel pretty confident about it all. I’ve learned a lot over the years, especially how important it is to trust yourself, your instincts. I know what Vulpecula expects from me, and I believe I can get them the good results they want. 

Knox: Love the confidence, man. Love the positivity energy.

Gutierrez: It can be hard to cling to that. Frankie says I’m–what’s the word? Broody sometimes after a bad race. I can neither confirm or deny that. But when everything feels like it’s falling apart, it’s true even the smallest bit of positivity helps.

*

Knox: You have a good history of getting along with your teammates which can be a rarity in Formula One for some. First you were paired with Garin, then Indelicato, and now Morales. What about your future teammate Oddball? How well do you know her?

Gutierrez: We haven’t actually met yet. With how different and busy our current schedules are, there just hasn’t been a moment yet where our paths crossed beyond seeing glimpses of each other during the race weekends.

Knox: A couple weeks ago a video came out on social media of you waving at her after she hilariously called out Ben Miller in the middle of the paddock. That was–I’m assuming from what you just said–one of your first interactions with her?

Gutierrez: Yeah, it was. Frankie and Ben were getting to know each other, so when I saw her it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment. 

Knox: You think your streak of amicable partnerships will continue with her or…?

Gutierrez: We’ll be spending a lot of time together these next few months preparing for next season, so I hope we’ll get along. I heard she’s a fan of Nicolas Cage which means we’ve already got one thing in common besides racing.

Knox: It’s like I always say, the best friendships in life are forged over a bowl of popcorn while watching Nick Cage do his thing. In fact, I’m calling it now: this time next year when we chat again, you two are gonna be joined at the hip. 

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Marcus Moreno

There’s something magical about New York City during a race weekend. A buzz in the air you feel even beneath multiple layers of clothing warding off the frigid air. You like the skyscrapers and the bright lights, the eclectic masses of people everywhere you look, that there’s always something to do no matter the hour. Even if that ‘something’ this time around happens to be a party in the penthouse of some mega social media influencer you couldn’t pick out of a lineup to save your life.

“Krystal Kris,” Benny reminds you for the umpteenth time during the elevator ride. He uses the mirror on the cabin wall to check his appearance, running a hand through his hair to muss it up in a way you’ve heard him describe as ‘ruggedly debauched’. He notices your unsubtle eye roll. “All the teams have been invited to celebrate. Eggsy and Ricky texted they’re already there. I know you can’t drink yet, Miss Underaged Minor, but just try to have fun, alright?”

It shouldn’t be appealing to your inner introvert, living it up in some random girl’s home surrounded by a bunch of people you don’t know all that well, but it actually sounds kind of fun. Maybe it’s that NYC magic.

“I’ll give it a shot,” you say, a grin curling at the corner of your mouth.

“Awesome,” Ben says, looking as satisfied as a fat house cat.

The elevator opens directly into Krystal’s entry area and her penthouse is every bit as glamorous and extravagant as you imagined, decorated with an abundance of string lights and balloons. Somewhere a karaoke machine must be set up because you can hear the caterwauling notes of somebody attempting to sing a Queen song over the miscellaneous sounds of laughter and chatter from the seventy or so guests scattered about. Just about everybody seems to have a drink in their hand, some already halfway to three sheets to the wind.

You wade into the crowd, snippets of conversation and the smell of alcohol passing you by, overwhelming your senses. The happy, carefree atmosphere starts to sink into your bones, fills you up with excitement, makes everything seem twice as thrilling. You find yourself smiling for no real reason, and it grows when you see Eggsy lounging on the living room couch with Ricky, the latter talking animatedly with his hands even though he’s holding a drink, just one wild gesture away from sloshing its contents all over the floor.

Making a beeline for them, Ricky’s face lights up when he catches sight of you.

“You’re here!” Ricky crows with delight, cheeks a little flushed. He immediately scooches over against the arm of the couch, making just enough room for you to settle in-between him and Eggsy.

“We’re so glad,” Eggsy grumbles, twisting his body to find another comfortable position.

“Ben dragged me,” you reply, nodding towards where your friend is mixing some drinks together at the open bar. “Probably for the best. Somebody’s got to get his drunk ass back to the hotel later.”

Ricky takes a sip from his cup. “Krystal’s the perfect host. Stocked the bar with every kind of drink you could ask for.”

You perk up. “Even—”

“Yes, even non-alcoholic, good old-fashioned lemonade,” he interrupts with a knowing smirk.

Your night just improved tenfold. 

“Speaking of Krystal, where is she?” you ask, gaze drifting around the room, as if a spotlight will single her out. Most girls in the nearby vicinity are unfamiliar to you, probably models or other influencers hoping for a fun time and a chance to flirt with the drivers. Sure, there’s something inherently attractive about men in fast cars, but you also know firsthand just how profoundly stupid a lot of them can be when they’re not driving.

“Around,” Eggsy answers unhelpfully, proving your point exactly. You give him a flat look and he shrugs. “She’s literally bouncing all over the joint, documenting everything on her phone to impress her followers.”

“So be careful about pineapple faces then, got it.”

Pineapple face is, essentially, a resting bitch face except it’s 99% of the time made intentionally when you think somebody is annoying, stupid, or a combination of both. It also coincidentally happens to look like the same face you make when eating sour foods like pineapples, hence the moniker.

Ben appears in front of the couch then, carefully carrying two drinks at once. “Who’s doing a pineapple face?” 

“Your mom,” you say reflexively, reaching out to take the bottle of lemonade from his grip. Seriously, these boys know you so well you might as well live in each other’s pockets. He lets you take it with minimum fuss, only a mere disapproving tsk of his tongue for the lame comeback. 

You down almost half your drink in one sip, the burst of sourness pleasurably electrifying your tastebuds. You’ll never get tired of the lemony taste, bringing memories of childhood summertime afternoons to the forefront of your mind. Back to those calmer, simpler days without any responsibilities except your chores.

For the most part, you four spend the evening hanging out around the living room couch joking and sharing stories with each other. Ricky ropes Omar Assarian into the conversation at one point, who then in turn calls over Gio Bravo, but he only sticks around long enough to playfully knock Ricky’s hat off his head before disappearing back into the crowd. You remain seated comfortably on the middle cushion, manipulating Eggsy and Ben with your best puppy dog eyes to keep the lemonade supply flowing.

“Let’s play a game,” Ricky decides abruptly just as you check your phone screen, stunned to find you’ve been here almost two hours and the party’s still going strong.

“What do you have in mind?” Omar asks, looking half-tempted to play, half-tempted to make up an excuse to leave.

“Two truths and a lie,” is the decisive response, no room for counter suggestions. “If we guess the lie right, the person drinks. If we get it wrong, we drink.”

“Ah, what the hell, I’ll go first,” Ben says with a long-suffering sigh like it’s so hard being the center of attention. His brow scrunches up, thinking of what to say. “If I wasn’t racing cars, I’d want to be a professional boxer,” he starts with, and you know it’s true because he drunkenly confessed it the night of his birthday a few months ago and then proceeded to punch a hole in the wall of his brother’s house as if to prove himself. Good times, good times. “My favorite movie is Fast & Furious,” also true, “and I had all A’s before I dropped out of school.”

And that’s total—

“Bullshit,” Omar declares without hesitation, reading your mind.

“Mate,” Eggsy says through guffaws, “you texted me last week asking if psychology was a real word. No way in hell did you get high marks in school.”

Ben grumbles something that goes unheard, probably cursing the group’s existence, and takes a drink of his beer.

“I’ll go,” Ricky raises his hand eagerly. He starts listing off on his fingers, “I love donuts. I’ve never had a speeding ticket. And I write poems.”

“Everybody gets a speeding ticket,” Ben says. “Even Oddball, and she’s a goody two shoes.”

You stick your tongue out at him. You’d been rushing home to watch the finale of your favorite show, but did the police officer who pulled you over care about that? Nope. He gave you the longest thirty-minute lecture of your life on the dangers of speeding while he wrote you a ticket for going 40 on a 30 dusty back road. By the time you finally got home you’d missed the entire episode. Lesson learned the hard way.

“You tweet about poetry all the time,” Eggsy says. “And donuts are impossible to hate, so I’m going with the speeding ticket is the lie, too.”

Ricky smiles, that cherubic little grin of his where his eyes seem to sparkle, but something about it seems off. You rack your brain, trying to think of a memory of Ricky eating anything for breakfast other than yogurt, eggs, or oatmeal. He’s always been the strictest about his diet within your little group, rarely allowing himself even the smallest pieces of candy for a treat after a win. This night out is most likely the only one he’s allowed himself to indulge in this whole race season.

“You’re a donut hater,” you announce, pointing at him shamelessly.

Ricky throws his hands in the air, drink thankfully sitting safely on the table or else you’d have been showered in alcohol. “How? How did you guess that right?”

Ben gapes at him, as if he’s suddenly become a total stranger to him. “You’ve never got a ticket? For real, man?”

“Are you sure you’re a F1 driver?” Omar asks, just as equally incredulous.

Ricky attempts to weakly defend his spotless record against the rowdier boys, but their taunting persists, drowning him out. You decide to intervene when it looks like Ricky’s on the verge of sulking so hard he becomes one with the couch. Definitely a sight not worth the risk of Krystal filming, even if the other drivers find it hysterical.

“I had a pet womp rat as a kid,” you say, raising your voice to be heard over them fooling around. A couple of extra people in the room swivel their heads to look at you along with your friends and you feel the back of your neck prickle with heat. “I, um, my favorite show as a kid was Puzo the Tardigrade. And The Princess Bride is my favorite book.”

And it should be impossible, with all the lights and people and especially the karaoke shrieking, but you hear a voice from behind you utter an amused, “Inconceivable,” that has you immediately twisting around to see. You can’t help the reaction, anytime you hear someone quoting your favorite story, it’s like the words are a taser against your skin, lighting up every nerve ending all at once. 

Javi Gutierrez is standing behind the couch, carrying four beers fresh from the bar with large hands your eyes can’t help but notice, his fingers wrapped around the bottles’ necks. His eyes widen when he realizes you’ve heard him, shoulders twitching like he’s suddenly got a spotlight beaming down on him. 

Your mouth opens, to say what you’re not entirely sure. Hi would probably be the best place to start, or offering another Princess Bride quote might put him at ease enough to officially join the game. Or maybe—

“What the fuck is a tardigrade?”

Or maybe Ben fucking Miller has to ruin the moment.

“A water bear,” Ricky, the nerd, says just as you face forwards again.

“...A water bear?” Omar echoes, eyebrows arched so high they nearly disappear into his buzzed haircut.

“Yeah, you know,” Ricky flaps an unhelpful hand, “a moss piglet.”

Eggsy chokes on his drink, spraying Long Island iced tea all over your jeans, prompting you to screech and slap at his arm while he laughs himself to tears. Meanwhile Ben and Omar remain totally in the dark about tardigrades, staring at Ricky for a second time like he’s from another planet.

You’ll look behind the couch again later when the truth’s come out—no pet womp rats for you, just loth cats and the occasional frog—but Javi’s long gone. 

“You actually look like you’re having fun in this one,” Gabriela teases, holding her phone in front of Javi’s face, showing off a photo of him, Frankie and some other drivers at Krystal Kris’ party. He’s pointing at something out of view, eyes screwed shut as he laughs hysterically, and his memories of the night are a little fuzzy around the edges but he thinks the photo was taken when Dieter Bravo drunkenly collided face-first with a wall.

He hums noncommittally. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Gabriela rolls her eyes at his stubborn reluctance to admit okay, maybe the party wasn’t as horrible as he thought it was going to be. The drinks were good, the company decent. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to hear Queen again without cringing at the memory of Nico Loro’s horrid efforts to impersonate Freddie Mercury though.

His PR agent is quiet for a bit, scrolling through Instagram’s slew of tagged photos and videos from last night. Then her movements abruptly pause, eyebrows twitching with the barest hint of surprise, so subtle Javi would have missed it entirely if he wasn’t looking at her face. He moves closer, tilting his head for a better look at what’s caught her attention.

It’s a short clip of him and Oddball—specifically, their little Princess Bride moment where she’d turned around on the couch and they’d engaged in a brief staring contest with each other. He remembers how she’d looked at him, with surprise and then recognition. He remembers she seemed like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t make up her mind. He remembers she was drinking lemonade.

The video is barely ten seconds long, not much to linger on in his opinion, but then he notices the view count has almost surpassed 500k and his eyes threaten to fall out of his head. 

Gabriela is still staring, expression inscrutable, and just when Javi thinks she’s going to watch it a million more times, all she says is, “You didn’t tell me Oddball was there.”

He leans back on his heels to better study her face, unsure from her tone what she’s feeling. “Yeah, I only saw her that little bit,” he answers. “She was hanging out with her friends, playing some kind of game.”

Gabriela finally continues scrolling, manicured finger tapping at the screen. Something about her silence makes his chest tighten, hair on the back of his neck prickling with unease. Surely she isn’t mad at him, right? No, he tries to assure himself. He’s seen her furious before, and when she’s angry the whole country knows about it, hearing her long-winded ranting from miles away. 

Something else is wrong here.

“Javi,” Gabriela starts, biting her lip, noticeably strange in the way she struggles to make eye contact. “You know I don’t like interfering in your personal life and it’s, uh, not exactly against the rules if you two were to—actually, I’m not sure if there even are rules since it’s not common yet, having a woman on a team. The FIA are always a step behind the current times,” she makes a face at that, “but it’s probably better for you, and Oddball, too, I imagine, since it’s her rookie season, that you and her don’t, um…”

She trails off, just looking at him, waiting expectantly, and Javi merely blinks back.

“That we don’t…what?”

Gabriela exhales a heavy sigh, glances away, seems to gather her wits, and when she looks back she’s back to her usual cool and collected PR manager self. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright, Javi? I like my job to be uncomplicated.”

Speed Beasts Magazine

United States' Top Motorsport Weekly
November 14 2022 Issue

In This Issue:

4. Badillo and Ballard join Formula E

6. Dornish Grand Prix speculations

9. A chat with Outer Rim Sports' Axe Woves

10. A chat with Statesman CEO Jefferson Champagne

14. Fan opinions on next season's circuits
15. Eggsy joins F1

22. Ahsoka Tano's advice for 2023's rookies

25. Formula 2 in 2023: who will be the next champion?

30. Be kind rewind: 1999 highlights and controversies

34. Why Van Chance is in desperate need of a win next season

40. Kingsgrave's new motorsport museum

45. What to watch this week

52. How well do you know F1 driver trivia? Test yourself!

The alarm clock on your nightstand displays 11:50pm and no matter how much you toss and turn, your mind won’t shut off. 

Let it be noted, when you reach for your phone, giving up on sleep, you don’t intend to search for your future teammate on Instagram. It just kind of, sort of happens. One second you’re looking at your home feed, specifically of a picture of Ben hanging out at Triple Frontier headquarters, and the next your fingers are typing Javi’s name in the search bar. There he is at the top of the list with an official blue checkmark: javigutierrez53. 

He has a larger follower count than you, which, of course he does, because he’s been an official F1 driver for almost five years now, professional and—your eyes linger on his profile picture, dressed in his racing suit, curls sweaty and disheveled with one single strand dangling rebelliously over his forehead. Good lord, he really is like a piece of art come to life. How the hell is he real? It’s unfair, that’s what it is. Completely and totally unfair, because you’re going be photographed next to that man and while everybody’s oohing and awing over him (rightfully so), you’ll be standing there beside him looking like—like a—

Whatever is on the spectrum between a potato and a naked mole rat. That’s what you’ll be. Oh yeah, and make sure to add breasts to that mental image because lord knows that's the main thing people are gonna be looking at. Female driver, the press keeps calling you, like they’re gonna get in trouble for leaving the descriptive out. It’s accurate, sure, but is it really necessary to single you out from the rest of the grid just because you’re a woman? Once you’re in the car, you’re a driver, it should be as simple and indifferent as that. But alas, that’s not how the world works.

Who cares about your skills and accomplishments when there’s far more interesting details to gossip about like the clothes you wear and your dating history. 

Jokes on them ‘cause you’ve never even had a single boyfriend for them to analyze. Ha ha ha. Really, it’s so fucking hysterical being alone all the time. 

You shove those disparaging thoughts aside for another sleepless night, looking at some more of Javi’s photos with his family, with his PR manager, of him enjoying time off at home in Mallorca. Javi driving a speedboat. Javi cliffjumping. Javi showing off his collection of movie memorabilia (which, on second glance, appear to all be Nicolas Cage memorabilia and hell if your future teammate didn’t just gain another gold star in the how is he real column). 

Everybody keeps saying next season will be interesting—Vivian, the press, your friends, even your parents. And only now is it starting to sink in that Javi isn’t some famous person to read about and gawk at anymore. He’s your teammate. Your. Teammate. Somebody you’re going to be spending 99% of your time with these upcoming months, on and off the track, practically all day every day. Which means you’ve got to pull yourself together. Less ogling. More looking respectfully.

And, according to your sleep-deprived brain, step one of your new resolution is to quit stalking his profile and press the follow button. Because there’s nothing weird at all about following someone at—you look at the clock, immediately cringe—1 in the morning. 

That’s just…great. 

You throw your phone back on the bedside table with a groan. If your brain was awake before, it’s a live wire now, thoughts somersaulting and ricocheting. You wind up burying your face into your pillow, wondering how long it will take to smother your jittery mind into unconsciousness.

~

Within thirty minutes you’re a drooling and snoring mess of limbs starfishing on the mattress.

~

In the morning, you wake up to your blaring alarm and a notification from Instagram. You blink at it groggily, slow to understand what the small font is telling you, only to then sit up so fast you’re dizzy and seeing black spots when it finally registers. 

Javi followed you back.

And he liked your most recent post of Diana holding you in a headlock after you dared show up to the gym two minutes late, captioned: Anyone know where I can find a new trainer? This one has no chill. Even adding his own comment: if you like running for miles and being sprayed with a water gun, I’ll gladly give you @carlos_scipio’s #. Just find me in the paddock and lmk 😉

A stupidly big grin spreads across your face and something inside of you, deep in the pit of your stomach, uncoils just a little bit. Next season is going to be interesting and challenging and scary, no doubt, but you’re starting to think it’s going to be pretty great too.

Outer Rim Sports

F1 2023 entry list: Rookie numbers revealed
By: Axe Woves / November 15 2022

The official 2023 F1 entry list was published last night by the FIA confirming the race numbers for the three rookies making their debut next season.

Vulpecula’s Oddball will be keeping her F2 number #13, Triple Frontier’s Ben Miller will race with #94, and Statesman’s Eggsy Unwin has chosen #98. 

All three numbers have been previously used by other drivers in F1 history over the decades. #13 last belonged to Gregor New, while David Portillo raced with #94, and Hal Packard used #98.

Here is the complete entry list:

Sunspear: 76 Marcus Moreno, 52 Nico Loro

Aurelac: 28 Ezra Green, 7 Ricky Hauk

Nevarro: 66 Din Djarin, 99 Cobb Vanth

Statesman: 34 Jack ‘Whisky’ Daniels, 98 Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin

Crane: 45 Pero Tovar, 19 William Garin

Vulpecula: 53 Javi Gutierrez, 13 Oddball

De Excelente Auto: 2 Javier Peña, 83 Steve Murphy

Black Gold: 40 Dave York, 35 Omar Assarian

Triple Frontier: 12 Frankie Morales, 94 Ben Miller

Van Chance: 42 Dieter Bravo, 41 Gio Bravo

Wonder World Sports
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Formula One: Ricky Hauk, Oddball, Ben Miller, and more rising stars to watch

By Steve Trevor, WWS
Wednesday November 16 2022

(Picture Gallery 1 of 6: The 2022 Formula One season is coming to an end. Once again, Marcus Moreno takes the lead over the rest of the grid. But in 2023, a collection of young drivers has the potential to shake things up…)

(WWS) — Next season will see the return of several well-established drivers on the grid, but 2023 also has the potential to be especially memorable due to the abundance of fledgling up-and-comers eager to make household names for themselves.

Including a young woman set to make history as the third female driver in F1 history, F2’s predicted 2022 champion, and Aurelac’s youngest driver in over a decade, here’s a closer look at some drivers I believe will have a tremendous impact on the sport.

Ben Miller - “My whole life changed with one text message”

Age: 21 Team: Triple Frontier 

(Photo : Ben Miller in mid-conversation with a Triple Frontier mechanic in the paddock garage, gesturing towards future teammate Frankie Morales’ car. Caption: Miller is the current lead for the F2 championship.)

“It hasn’t really sunk in yet that next season I’ll be on the grid with some of the fastest drivers on earth,” Ben Miller said after the announcement was made he’d been drafted for Triple Frontier next season.

Miller, one of three rookies joining in 2023, has quite an impressive record despite only being 21-years-old. Like most F1 drivers, he began his career by racing go-karts before going on to win the F4 championship in 2017. 

In the literal days following his victory, he drew interest from several team leaders in the motorsport community, but Santiago Garcia stood out from the rest by sending a text message asking for a meeting which would ultimately alter the course of Miller’s career.

“My whole life changed with one text message,” Miller told Speed Beasts Magazine. “It just seemed like a no-brainer to accept Santi’s deal.”

Miller, only 16 at the time, was offered a spot in Triple Frontier’s young driver program. With their training, he went on to place second in the F3 championship as a mere rookie and has so far come out on top over his competition in Formula 2 as well. 

“Triple Frontier has really helped my skills develop over the years. Being an official F1 driver for them is exactly what I want to be,” Miller told BBB following Triple Frontier’s announcement in October.

Ricky Hauk - “Whatever happens, happens”

Age: 21 Team: Aurelac

(Photo : Ricky Hauk smiles during the Romanian GP press conference. Caption: Hauk had an impressive debut season this year and currently ranks 12th.)

Aurelac, usually preferring experienced drivers on their team, has promoted 21-year-old Ricky Hauk to join Ezra Green in 2023. “One of the best days of my life,” Hauk said in a Twitter post.

The decision for Hauk to replace Pero Tovar is remarkable due to the fact he is the youngest driver to join the team since Fahr Sater in 2007. Aurelac CEO Damon McCall has stated Hauk’s impressive rookie season with DEA led to the surprising choice being made. Hauk finished fifth in the Chinese GP which was only his third race and has since earned 33 total points.

Hauk’s journey to F1 hasn’t been without personal struggles. He has spoken openly about being a victim of childhood abuse from his late father, as well as his experiences with verbal bullying from classmates during his high school years.

When asked about the pressure of joining Aurelac, the young driver didn’t seem overly concerned.

“There’s always going to be pressure in this sport,” he said in an interview with Formula1Daily. “I’ll just keep giving it my best shot behind the wheel and God will take care of the rest. Whatever happens, happens.”

Oddball - “I hope to be an inspiration for young girls everywhere”

Age: 20 Team: Vulpecula

(Picture : Oddball on podium holding a second place trophy at the British Formula 2 round. Caption: Oddball will be the youngest driver on the grid next season.)

READ: The young woman set to make Formula 1 history

Oddball will be making the jump from reserve driver into an official F1 seat for Vulpecula next March at the Australian Grand Prix. She will also be the only female competing on the grid and the third woman overall in the sport’s long history.

Vivian Etten, Vulpecula’s chief executive, has high hopes the young driver will help the team become a force to be reckoned with on the grid again. Expectations are high for Oddball to succeed alongside her future teammate Javi Gutierrez.

Oddball has competed in seven different junior motorsport categories and won first place championship in four. “I hope to be an inspiration for young girls everywhere,” she told reporters. “And to prove just as much as Ahsoka and Anita did that women have a place here in F1.”

(Picture Gallery 1 of 35: Marcus Moreno celebrates his tenth win of the season as the victor of the Florida GP over Din Djarin and Pero Tovar.)

Gary “Eggsy” Unwin - “I never back down from a challenge”

Age: 22 Team: Statesman

Eggsy Unwin is another rookie driver expected to have a big impact in 2023. “He’s finer than frog fur,” Jefferson Champagne has said of his new Statesman driver. “We believe he’s championship-material, bet on it.”

The 22-year-old will be Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels’ partner, an accomplished veteran of the sport who Champagne has said he still “expects big results” from next season. 

READ: Unwin’s “mind blown” to be drafted by Statesman

Unwin caught Champagne’s attention when he made headlines for usurping Oddball in the F2 ranking last month and claiming second place which is the highest a Kingsman driver has ever been in standings. He initially considered a deal being Van Chance’s reserve driver before Statesman approached him with an official contract to join their team.

“I’ve dreamed of driving in Formula 1 since I was little,” Unwin told BBB. “I’m absolutely over the f–ing moon to join Statesman in 2023.”

As one of the oldest teams in F1, Statesman has a prestigious reputation for producing top-notch drivers time and time again. Unwin is looking forward to the training sessions and, if all goes right on track, podium finishes.

“I never back down from a challenge,” he said. “And with how competitive this sport is, I’m going to look forward to a new challenge every race.”

Omar Assarian – “I’m only going to get better from here”

Age: 23 Team: Black Gold

Crowd-favorite Omar Assarian has been driving in F1 for two seasons now, making his debut with Vulpecula last year before joining Black Gold where he felt his “skills will be better appreciated.” And given his strong results this year (currently fifth in driver standings), fans and critics agree Black Gold looks to be a better fit for the young driver.

The 23-year-old will partner with returning F1 legend Dave York next season. York’s decision to come out of retirement resulted in a ripple effect heavily impacting the grid. Willem Ballard, Black Gold’s current number two driver, will be pushed out of the sport entirely after failing to secure a new seat, while Javi Gutierrez, who was initially promised Ballard’s seat by Black Gold’s CEO Maxwell Lord in the aftermath of his temporary transfer to Triple Frontier, has signed a new contract with Vulpecula for 2023.

“They know exactly what I need when I need it. When to offer advice and when to challenge me,” Assarian said to reporters after joining Black Gold.

Assarian’s debut season with Vulpecula was a rocky one due to multiple incidents of car trouble throughout the year. Although he did manage a third place podium finish at the 2020 Scottish GP, he ultimately came in eleventh in the driver standings. 

“I’m only going to get better from here,” he told WWS at the recent Texas GP in October. “Next year, the other teams better watch out.”

FIA Thursday Press Conference November 17, 2022

Transcript of audio recording, ft. Pietro ALVAREZ (Vulpecula), Marcus MORENO (Sunspear), Oddball (2023 Vulpecula Driver), Ben MILLER (2023 Triple Frontier Driver)

Q: (Ginger Ale - Formula1Daily)

Pietro, how does it feel going into this weekend knowing it’s your final Grand Prix?

Pietro ALVAREZ: Right now I’m treating it as any other race. I’m looking forward to being out on the track, hopefully finishing high. Dorne is always a special time. If you ask me again on Sunday, the mood will definitely be different. It’s just not something I’m allowing myself to think too hard about at the moment.

Q: (Ginger Ale - Formula1Daily)

Are there any special memories during your years in F1 which stand out in particular?

PA: I’m fortunate to have the number of victories that I do, but more than those I’m going to look back on the people I’ve met and worked beside and shared my life with. I’ve been a part of this sport for almost twenty years, that’s a lot of time spent with some of the most talented and knowledgeable people on earth. I think they are what I’ll remember and miss the most.

Q: (Axe Woves - Outer Rim Sports)

Oddball, you’ve been busy preparing for your debut with Vulpecula next season and part of that preparation process has been working closely with Pietro. Will you be sad to see him leave? What has he taught you about the sport?

Oddball: Pietro has become a good friend and mentor so it will be sad no longer seeing him around the garage and HQ anymore. He’s taught me a lot about F1 and life as well. If I listed everything we’d be here for hours, but something in particular he told me that I wholeheartedly agree with is to make sure I’m enjoying myself. Yes, this sport is a tough job, and yes, it requires a heck of a lot of hard work, but at the end of the day it’s still possible to have fun. When the joy is gone, that’s when you know it’s time to move on.

Q: (Carolina Álvarez - El Tiempo)

Thank you, Oddball. Ben, of course it’s exciting news you’ll be racing for Triple Frontier next season, but first comes the Formula 2 championship. You’re in the lead by a large margin, but are you feeling any nerves at all?

Ben MILLER: Feeling any nerves? Definitely. Doesn’t matter how good the results are, I’ll always feel them. I’d be worried if I didn’t have them, to be honest. Anything can happen during a race. I’d love to win the title, but we’ll just have to wait and see how it goes.

Q: (Steve Trevor - Wonder World Sports)

Marcus, on the subject of Pietro’s last Grand Prix, will you miss competing against him?

Marcus MORENO: Of course. The whole sport will miss seeing him out there. He’s an absolute legend.

Q: (Steve Trevor - Wonder World Sports)

I’ll ask you both, Marcus and Pietro, since you’ve raced against him in the past, what are your thoughts on Dave York’s return to the sport?

MM: I think it’s great news, honestly. He’s extremely talented, and it’ll be exciting to see him on the track again. It’s a wonderful opportunity for him, not many drivers have the strength to get back into the pressure and grind of it all after leaving, so I hope it works out for the best.

Q: Pietro?

PA: Like Marcus said, York is an extremely talented driver. If his car’s performance is good and his skills are sharp, he’ll be an exciting one to watch next season. 

Q: (Carolina Álvarez - El Tiempo)

Pietro, what would you say are the chances of you returning out of retirement in a few years? Do you think it’s likely you’ll follow York’s footsteps?

PA: I haven’t even had one day of actual retirement yet, so it’s difficult to say one way or the other. I love Formula 1, always will. If I get bored in a few years or my family gets sick of me being around all the time…maybe I’ll make an attempt to come back. That’s all I can say. Maybe.

Q: (Carol Cobb - Speed Beasts Magazine)

Oddball, redirecting to your future with Vulpecula, could you talk about your plans for next season? Do you think it will be a smoother one than this year’s?

Oddball: Optimistically, I’m hoping so. Realistically though, it’s tough to say until I’ve actually driven the car. Everyone at Vulpecula is working hard to improve next season’s results, but progress is a marathon not a sprint. It might take a few races, maybe even a year or two, but my plan, and the team’s as well, is to just keep making positive steps and earning points until we’re back on top once more.

Pietro catches up with you in the Vulpecula hospitality in-between media sessions, his third cup of coffee in his hand. “That was your first F1 press conference, wasn’t it, Oddball?” he wonders, taking a seat across from you. He smiles a little, just a faint crinkling of his eyes. “You did good.”

“Really?” You nearly drop your phone, text message to your mother temporarily forgotten. Pietro’s one of the most successful racers in the last decade. He’s not as grumpy as Tovar, but after this long in the sport few things surprise him anymore. Even fewer things earn his praise. “Thank you.”

He chuckles slightly like you’ve said something amusing, raising his drink to take a sip. The cup is engraved with his initials, a present given to him by Cobb Vanth last year during the F1 Secret Santa gift exchange. Almost every time you’ve been around the man, that cup hasn’t been far from his reach.

“I’ve never lied to you, Oddball.”

“I didn’t think you had,” you say slowly, frowning.

Another sip. Pietro crosses his legs at the ankles, leaning back in his seat without seemingly a care in the world. Meanwhile your shoulder blades are sharp, tense points beneath your shirt, waiting for him to continue.

“Everything you’ve asked me about cars and my career, how to find a balance between life and work, I haven’t sugar-coated my answers because I remember being a rookie,” Pietro explains, words smooth as velvet on his accented tongue. “However, for as much as I have to tell you, for as many tips as I can offer…we both know our paths will always be unique from each other.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There are a dozen different meanings which can be applied to his words, but one stands out above the rest, floating in the air of the room, pressing uncomfortably against your skin. He’s a driver and you’re a female driver.

“People won’t ever let you forget you’re different, Oddball. They didn’t let Anita or Ahsoka forget either, even after all their triumphs. Talk, talk, talk is all these critics do all day long. And you know what I say to that?”

A deliberate pause follows.

“Encourage them.”

“Is…” Your brow furrows, a bitter taste on the back of your tongue. “Is that supposed to inspire me or something?”

He looks at you, dark eyes piercing. “Give them something to talk about, Oddball. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself in this sport. Of making ripples in the pond. I came into F1 too late to race Anita, but I shared the grid with Ahsoka. I saw the spark in her eyes. Her determination. I thought she was one of a kind. That nobody else had even a smidge of her talent. And then I met you.” He points a finger at you, certainty brimming in his gaze. “Call it driver’s intuition, or perhaps the ramblings of an old man who’s hit a barrier one time too many, but I think you’re just the driver F1 needs to shake things up for the better. Those critics and other drivers won’t know what hit them next season.”

There’s an embarrassing stinging sensation behind your eyes, a sudden lump lodged in your throat making it hard to swallow. You attempt a smile, wobbly at the corners. “Thanks. That–that means a lot, especially coming from you.”

“It needed to be said,” Pietro replies, standing up and giving your shoulder a pat before heading for the stairs. And it’s the simple, blunt way he says it that makes you understand why he’s so well-respected in the racing community. Why the hole left behind in the wake of his retirement will be impossible to fill.

Busy Bee Blog (BBB) - Vlog Post #63
Friday November 18 2022

Summary: Join me, Frankie Morales and Javi Gutierrez at the Dornish GP as we play a game of Mr & Mr.

The camera pans over the interior of the Triple Frontier hospitality before settling on a smiling Bee Castle. Behind her, Frankie and Javi sit back-to-back in chairs, heads turned to listen to her introduction. “Hello! Your Queen Bee is back again for another vlog and this time I convinced the Triple Frontier drivers, Frankie and Javi, to join me for a little game of Mr & Mr.” She turns to look at them. “Are you ready for some fun, boys?”

“With you? Always,” Frankie answers with a wink. 

Javi rolls his eyes, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like ‘Get a room’ but the microphone on his shirt fails to catch it.

Bee’s cheeks redden, but she remains composed and professional. “This is the final race of the season. It’s also your final race as teammates before Javi leaves for Vulpecula. So I’m going to ask you some questions about each other and we’re going to find out how well you’ve gotten to know one another during your time together. Remember, we’re looking for matching answers.”

The camera zooms in on the paddles in Frankie and Javi’s hands. Pictures of their faces have been glued to either side for the game. Javi holds his paddle up, mimicking the expression of his photo by sticking his tongue out.

“Let’s do it,” Frankie says, twirling his paddle between his fingers. “I’m looking forward to the win.”

“Yeah, because you know so much about my life,” Javi scoffs.

“Shots fired,” Bee smirks at the camera. “And on that note, let’s begin. We’ll start with an easy one. Who has the most laps?”

They both seem to think about it, but end up agreeing it’s Frankie.

“Correct. Great start so far.” Bee nods. “Everybody knows about your mutual love for snow cones. Who has the best taste when choosing a flavor?”

Javi and Frankie immediately hold up their paddles with their own faces displayed. Bee makes a buzzing sound at the mismatched response, prompting Frankie to twist his head to look at his teammate’s paddle, eyes widening with surprise.

“Are you serious? You pick the absolute worst flavors.”

“And you always pick lavender bubblegum,” Javi counters, reaching backwards to swat at the other man’s arm. “How is that having better taste?”

“Because it’s always good!”

“Agree to disagree.” 

“Guess we’ll have to take our favorite reporter with us next time so she can see for herself if I’m right.” Frankie shoots Bee a flirtatious grin, prompting another blush to appear while her camerawoman laughs quietly as she films the two.

Bee looks down at her cue cards, asking, “Who is a better driver off the track?”

Javi chuckles, holding up his picture without hesitation. “No doubt about it.”

“He picked himself, didn’t he?” Frankie asks, aiming for disgruntled but missing by a mile, barely fighting back a smile.

“Because it’s true!” Javi crows, waving his paddle in the air enthusiastically.

“Who would win in a fight?” Bee wonders, hiding her grin behind her cards.

They take a second to think about it, flipping their paddles back and forth indecisively. 

“Here’s the thing,” Javi begins, humor creeping into his voice. “I can throw a punch as well as the next guy, but I also know Frankie used to get into a lot of fights when he was younger in McDonald’s parking lots, so…”

“First of all,” Frankie manages to say through his chuckling, pointing a finger, “it was Wendy’s not McDonald’s. And second, man, you couldn’t even kill a fly the other day, what the hell makes you think you could ever take me in a fight?”

Javi slowly turns his paddle around, displaying Frankie’s image. “He makes a good point.”

The camera manages to catch Frankie’s quiet snort before he hides his face behind his paddle.

Bee’s stare lingers on him a second longer than necessary, expression soft, before she reads aloud the next question. “Who’s more likely to fall asleep in a team meeting?”

“Oh, Javi, for sure. 100%,” Frankie answers, paddle lifted before Bee’s even finished speaking.

She laughs. “Does Vulpecula know about this problem?”

“No, because it’s not a problem. It only happened one time,” Javi complains. He aims an irritated look directly at the camera. “ Once , and he’ll never let me forget it!”

“Alright, final question,” Bee says, schooling her smiling expression into one of exaggerated seriousness. The two men mimic her, eyebrows drawn low and lips pursed. “Who…is a bigger fan of BBB?”

Frankie’s out of his seat in the next blink, wrapping Bee in his arms and swinging her around in a hug with her feet off the floor. “Me!” he exclaims over the sound of her giggling.

In the background, Javi tosses his paddle in the air, pretending to be upset at the loss.

Ben holds the Dornish Grand Prix trophy up over his head, tears streaming down cheeks, smile stretched so wide across his face there’s no other word for his expression other than absolutely ecstatic. After all his hard work and training and sacrifices, he's officially the 2022 Formula 2 Champion. 

You stand at his side on the second-place podium, wearing a matching grin and proudly holding up your own trophy. It doesn’t matter you didn’t win the champion title. This—this feeling of breathless jubilation, of shaky knees and the thunderous applause of the crowd—it’s more than enough. (Although, you gotta admit, reclaiming your second place in the standings does make this occasion all the more sweeter.)

Somewhere down there amongst the sea of spectators and the familiar faces of your fellow F2 drivers and members of your team, you know Eggsy’s cheering his head off for you and Ben. He didn’t podium, crossing the finish line fourth, but the amount of points puts him third in the standings and you can’t imagine the season ending any other way than with you and your boys on top. 

God, it’s crazy the year’s almost over. Even crazier how much has happened these last few months.

2022 will end with the three of you conquering F2. 2023 will begin with the three of you ready to do it all over again on the grid of F1. New tracks, new challenges, new responsibilities. Facing off against the best of the best, each one chasing after the same ultimate dream.

Ben slings his arm around your shoulders, crushing you against his side so tight it’s like he’s trying to make you one entity. You lean into him, the top of your head beneath his jaw, and a single thought drifts through your mind right before you’re blinded by a ripple of camera flashes: I can’t wait.