Chapter Text
“It will pass with age,” someone said in front of him near the track, older and probably wiser than him, but still, he wasn't really listening, just watching a cigarette being lit. “You'll get used to it: karting, racing, people, everything. It just becomes boring.”
Hearing it while heart pounding heavily after the race was surreal: fingers shook as well, the world around seemed to blur, but for a second he managed to imagine the same feeling very well – just not driven by adrenaline after the great race, but endless repetition, senselessness of it all. No, no, shrug it off. Don’t believe in an old man’s tale, don’t become one of them, unsatisfied with life, inner emptiness, lack of emotions, and drive, and passion, and anger. The former racer must have buried his own potential, now bitter to admit it, because seeing a prodigy's success makes you understand how miserable you are, impossible to reach these heights at any age, especially not this young.
«The more you win, the more envious everybody gets», Dad was always right in the words, but not often in his actions.
He was raised hungry, not akin to anyone else. In the eyes of young Max Verstappen, there was nothing on Earth as interesting as driving, as thrilling and desirable as winning, no matter if it was a race, a sprint, an i-racing session, or even a championship. What could compare? You could ask him at the age of five, you ask at fifteen, you can ask at fifty (if he doesn't get in a deadly crash, like legends do), the answer will be the same; more like he was not even born, but made for life like this – a perfect racing machine. Eugenic experiment, selected by certain gods before birth, inheriting his mother's talented genes. Titles were waiting ahead. He recently signed his contract, and may anybody doubt his youth or racecraft, he himself didn't. Proving them wrong was the question of time.
“It's my time to go,” he leaves this dialogue without «sorry» or «goodbye», uninterested in conversation; «yeah, sure» brushed the edges of the ear. Fingers precisely zip and button all the clasps on the suit – training season starts as soon as races end. Useless pseudo philosopher may still stand there and ruin his lungs when Max speeds past known records and limits ten times around the circuit, devouring more and more.
It is hard to stop him, no power can do it.
Not even himself.
«Max Verstappen moves with astonishing speed not only on the track, but also in the steps of his career, skipping usual levels of underage competitions to get to the main stage of motorsports. It seems to us he will be challenging mature adult drivers sooner than they expect, and they better start preparing. No amount of experience makes you ready for such raw talent as Verstappen bears.»
*
As you may know, in Formula 1 sometimes beautiful defense is not enough to save you, and the last laps decide what already feels achieved. You don’t need to wait for the 2021 Abu Dhabi for that. Two years prior, Verstappen was also in the middle of a quarrel.
But, unlike the situation with Hamilton, which was only yet to come to claim his craftsmanship, in that earlier year of 2019, he was battling someone he liked – deeply, we may clarify; and as much as Charles’ anger and frustration after afflictive loss in Austria were completely understandable, Max found himself fearing those emotions a bit. Not even them resulting in their continual «hard racing», which would be even better as it is, but an inner shift in his long-lasting rival’s soul. That Sunday wasn’t the first, not even the hundredth time these two had come together; it sure wasn’t the first time they went wheel to wheel (and hopefully it won’t be the last either), but why had it never before felt so much like a betrayal?
They’ve been racing each other for years, knew each other inside out, each hardship and hard work, and after all of this, Max made his decision, and now they are both stuck to live with this story for the rest of their lives. Nothing to be proud of, to be honest.
Did he want to win? Sure, always; after all, it's the first Honda win since 2006. And, of course, he wanted to be the best, usually it is worth any possible sacrifice or high cost for Max, that’s Verstappen’s moving forward force.
Did he want to be the reason for all this controversy, three hours on the nerves, sitting on the edge and waiting for news from the stewards' room, already slandered by both journalists and half of the fans? Believe me, he is used to it.
Did he easily accept causing so much frustration for Charles? Sigh.
Not an easy question to answer.
But it was racing. The kind these two have been putting on each other for nearly a decade.
In hindsight Max found lots of excuses – Charles wouldn’t like his maiden win to be granted by stewards and not decided on the gravel; it is his job and literal obligation to go for the gap, seize the win, grab the chance, and after all there was nothing wrong with racing hard as they did lots of times previously, «debatable» move or «illegal» overtake weren’t that bad in his own eyes. But still, at one particular moment, he was standing behind Charles’ back, hearing very well his answers to the post-race interview, full of each sort of emotion. Disbelief and injustice were sour and expected, criticism definitely left some bitter aftertaste, but what impressed him the most were confidence and nobility, mild and strong. It made all Charles’ monologue somehow more painful to hear, arguably the saddest loss to witness, even worse to cause.
He held his head high, being stripped of what he deserved so much. And he had every right to doubt the given outcome, clear from his car.
And now, he was right scolding Max in the politest, most diplomatic way possible; no attorney would argue with his point.
It hurt, actually. Somewhere deep inside, closer to the heart.
Max would never admit it, so he puts on a smile and pretends to not care.