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Chapter 7: Mr.Piastri
I knew I couldn't tell my story without talking about him. Oscar doesn't know about any of this, or if he does, he has never implied that he does. He will know by the time you read this, however, because if it all goes to plan, he will have written the foreword for this book. I don't know if I should write this to you or to him.
I haven't had the courage to tell him this in the thirty years we've known each other, so I guess I'll just tell you.
If you're here, you've probably already read the chapter about me "finding myself" in my late teens and early twenties (I'm bi, if you're a curious fucker who decided to skip that part).
Something you hope for but nobody really warns you about is that when you are a Formula One driver, you can have almost anything you want. In the age of social media, sometimes it also felt like you could have anyone you wanted as well (It helped that I am pretty charming).
I was happy, if not winning. Then he came along and changed everything, including me. If not for Oscar, I would not be a world champion. Yes, Andrea was integral to the change in the team but Oscar was probably the key to the change in me.
All my success in Formula One is tied to him. I only ever won with him on the other side of the garage. When he left, so did my success. Oscar leaving set off a domino in McLaren. He went on to win three more championships after the one I lost to him, and I was stuck, left with my one. You already know this, though.
I think I'm just trying to drag my feet, not tell you what I know I must.
I loved him, and I still do (in different ways). I'm not sure when I fell in love with him, but I do know when I realised. We were doing one of those stupid PR photoshoots in Mexico. It was the year I won; on Thursday, we were up in the grandstands taking photos at golden hour. The light hit him just right, making his soft, brown hair practically glow. I was gaining on him in the championship, he was really close to losing it, but he turned to me and gave me one of the most sincere smiles I'd ever seen. No teeth, just a small one that reached his eyes. I felt my heart break then because I knew I would have to break his. This was probably my only chance to win a championship, and I was not going to lose, even to him.
Looking back, I probably knew I was in love with him before that but never really admitted it to myself. I think you can probably see it in the Singapore debrief or even in the fucking Finish the lyrics video from his rookie year. I never regretted winning or beating him on track, but it always made me feel bad if he felt it was unfair, i.e. Singapore, Monza, Silverstone.
I spent the rest of the year shutting him out. It hurt to see someone I loved struggle, but at the end of the day, I was a racecar driver, and that meant selfish to a fault. The more he lost, the more I gained.
I spent the weekend between Mexico and Brazil flip-flopping between euphoria and gut-wrenching heartbreak. I was this close to something that I had been working towards my whole life and yet I couldn't have something so close to me in the way I wanted. That's probably when I realised it was lonely at the top.
I couldn't tell anyone either, the idea of it getting back to him was mortifying. What if he tried to use my feelings for him against me? I knew he wouldn't, but sometimes when your closest competitor is also the person who makes your skin crawl with just a graze of his hand, your brain plays tricks on you.
Once I had won in Abu Dhabi, the only thing on my mind was him. I felt like maybe I could have both. This is pretty obvious if you look back at literally any fucking interview I gave after winning the championship.
Alas, once the alcohol wore off, I came to realise how stupid it all was. For one, as far as I knew, he was straight. Another thing was that he was in a loving, committed relationship. They could be revolutionary teammates who went through a championship battle and come out the other side, relatively unscathed. We went to the award ceremony and the Christmas party, and I did my best to act like his hand in my hair wasn't a life-changing feeling.
Over winter, I broke up with Magui. It wasn't fair to her. I didn't see him for the rest of the break.
He looked different when I saw him in Australia, his hair was longer, and he looked impossibly bigger. There is no rational way to explain the way my whole body reacted to seeing him again. I had hoped that maybe the break had helped, but apparently distance does make the heart grow fonder.
The car was shit that year, and we barely made it to P3 in the constructors. That meant way more time together in front of the camera though. I genuinely cringe every time one of those videos comes up, and I look like a lovestruck puppy. I remember someone asking me how our relationship was that year, and I said it was the same as the end of last year before because it was. I was still hopelessly in love with him, and he still had no idea. For the next two years we traded the rare wins back and forth but it was clear the car was regressing. Those years were something of the sweetest torture I've ever been subjected to. I was hyper-aware of where he was at all times during a race weekend, it was like my body was tuned to him. Every small smile, every brush of his hand, every gaze towards me made my heart jump. I knew I should probably find someone and start settling down; most of the guys were married, engaged or had kids, but I was stuck. As long as he existed on the other side of that garage wall, there would be no one else for me.
When Max told me he was retiring at the end of the 2027 season during the summer break, he seemed to imply that if I wanted the seat, it was mine. I thought about it, leaving McLaren and Oscar, but I'd already won one, and that was enough for me. Selfishly, I didn't want to leave him, the thought of F1 without him was unimaginable. The next year was when everything changed, Red Bull threw a rookie in the seat for reasons that would be unclear until the season after.
McLaren had somehow managed to perfect the formula in the last season of the regulations, just like last time and this time, there was no stopping Oscar. I did my best to fight him in my tenth season, but I can admit now I was already losing my edge. With Ferrari not even in the mix and Mercedes only being suitable at some tracks, Oscar won his first championship with two rounds to go. I finally got to do what I couldn't three years before that, celebrate with him. It was a night I don't remember very well, but the only feeling I had was that of utter pride. I had not fallen in love with a loser!
What happened next is what you might classify as "The Great LandOscar break-up". Honestly, it kind of felt like that for me. I was blindsided. The day before the news broke, Oscar invited me to lunch. We sat at a bougie hotel, at a private table in Abu Dhabi, when he told me.
"Lando, I haven't extended my contract."
This hadn't even crossed my mind, we were the longest teammate pairing in Formula One history. It was going to be Lando and Oscar, always, surely.
"Mate, don't tell me you're pulling a Rosberg."
Obviously, the joke didn't quite land. Was it stupid of me to think I would be his only teammate in Formula One? Yes, but I could only envision a life where, for twenty six weekends of the year, I look over and there he is in some form of eyesore orange.
"Not exactly..."
He didn't meet my eyes then, I didn't see his hands either. They were hidden under the table. He told me later that he didn't want me to see how nervous he was.
"I'm going to Red Bull."
I didn't think this was an option. I was left in complete shock. He searched my eyes for a reaction, but I think whatever he found was what he was expecting.
"Oh my god, Lando, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but you know how it is with NDAs and stuff." This he said with his hands in front of his face, still not looking me in the eyes when speaking.
"But we just won a championship, you're a World Champion. Why would you leave?"
"I know, and it's been a dream come true, but I decided this last year. I had no idea the car would be this dominant this year. To be honest, even if I had known, I think I still would've made the same decision. I want to win, more than one, and I think with the new regs next year, Red Bull is my best shot."
He finally looks at my eyes when he says the last part. Whatever he sees makes him reach out and cup my face.
The pained look on his face is etched in my brain forever.
"I'm in love with you", I said.
I swear, his heart breaks. He takes my hands in his, and they look ridiculous in his tiny, pale hands.
"Lando, I love you, but not like that. I'm sorry."
"I know, but I had to let you know before I let you go" I can feel the tears streaming down my face in earnest now.
"Maybe if I had been single when we met, and we weren't rivals, we could've been something", he says quietly, almost wistful about the alternate reality.
"Don’t do that Osc, just break my heart so I can move on", I said, shaking my head.
Oscar nods and lets me cry while holding my hands.
Now, if you remember the beginning of this chapter, I said Oscar doesn't know this, so obviously this didn't fucking happen. This is the conversation we could've had in the alternate reality the Oscar in my head was talking about.
Here's what really happened:
"...Red Bull is my best shot."
He finally looks me in the eyes when he says that last part. The soft brown of his eyes snapped me out of the shock.
"They asked me first. Last year when Max left, he told me. They only asked you because I said no"
I knew it was mean and rude and not true, but I wanted to hurt him. I managed that, the pained look on his face is etched in my brain forever. I thought it would be easier if we both thought we didn't want each other on the other side of the garage.
"Why didn't you say yes, then?" Oscar asks, an edge to his voice. I could tell I'd stuck a nerve, it hurt him that he would be the second choice to me, again, and at a team I wasn't even at.
"Because I didn't want to leave McLaren and you, you muppet, but clearly you feel differently."
I figured he deserved some honesty.
"Lando, do you think it's easy for me? You're all I've ever known in F1. My whole world revolves around you. They offered to buy me out of my contract last year and replace Max, but I said they could have me from next year or not at all. I was promised one more year with you, and like hell I was gonna give it up." That is still, to this day, the most emotional I've ever seen him.
"You could've told me not to extend my contract for three years last year. I would've left with you, gone to fucking Aston Martin or something." I'm not proud of that one, but I was practically begging him not to leave me alone at McLaren.
"Lando, I can't take McLaren from you. You belong." Oscar said so, so softly.
I wanted to scream, "SO DO YOU!!!" In his face. I said it quietly, though.
"Not like you," Oscar said, and I knew he wished he did.
That was the last time I saw him outside of work, just us, until after we had both retired.
You all know what happened next: Oscar went to Red Bull and won two championships back-to-back. All while I watched from my midfield McLaren. It hurt to see that he had made the right decision. I selfishly wanted him to fail for deciding to leave me. I also knew he deserved it, though. So, I watched for two years, hating that I still loved him even after he left me. I saw him win again and again from the other side of the paddock. Those years were some of my loneliest in F1. We didn't text anymore, exchanged only polite smiles, no more touches, no more appeasing my silly little whims. Yet through all of this, my heart yearned for him. I still noticed him wherever he went, felt shivers run through my body when he touched me through the race suit on the rare occasion I qualified in the top three or finished on the podium and worst of all, he still smiled at me like he always did. I wanted to believe he was just as lonely without me, but what is loneliness in the wake of success?
After the horribleness that was the MCL43 and MCL44, I felt like my time had come. It was like whatever magic we had, he had taken it with him. I was getting beaten by the rookie on the other side of the garage, so I decided to retire at the end of the 2030 season. I'll go more into that in another chapter, this one is about Oscar.
As fate would have it, we stood 1-2 on the podium the day he won his third championship. Him on the top step, me, one below it. We hadn't gotten a 1-2 since our days at McLaren, and it felt final. Everything was the way it was supposed to be. I looked to my side and saw him looking to the sky, a small smile on his face, absolutely glowing in the light. A true champion about to be bathed in champagne, and I decided to let him and Formula One go.
I told him quietly during the walk from the podium to the press conference. He was the first person to know.
"Oscar, I'm retiring at the end of the season."
I said it quietly so no one else heard. It was important to me that he knew, somehow, that made the decision final for me.
"What? Lando, why?" He whisper-yelled back to me, dragging me by the waist to a little alcove. His eyebrows were all scrunched up in confusion. That was the first time in two years he had touched me not in front of the cameras.
"Osc, I'm getting beaten by a child. I'm tired. I know Zak wants to drop me, and I don't want to go to Haas or something and take up space." That was the first time I was honest with myself, until I told him I don't think I fully decided it.
I could see the shift in his face when I called him "Osc". It was the first time in two years, and I wanted to remind him one last time what we used to be.
"I don't agree, but I understand. It’s going to be weird without you."
He offered me the honesty he could allow. I just nodded, agreeing.
I didn't watch Formula One the next year, I met my wife, and we fell in love (story for a different chapter)
The only Formula One news I saw that year was that Oscar had decided to leave Red Bull and move to Ferrari for the 2032 season. I was maybe the only one who wasn't surprised, everyone dreamed of driving in red and at his core, Oscar is simple.
I figured enough time had passed (I also selfishly wanted to see him in red), so the first race I watched as a retired driver was the one where Oscar won his home Grand Prix for the first time. The first Australian to ever stand on the podium at home, I would be lying if I said I didn't tear up watching him on that top step on my sofa at 5 am. He'd finally fucking done it! He didn't win the championship that year, of course, you guys know that. James Vowles had finally delivered on his promise and built that Williams rocketship.
Seeing Oscar in red, however, reignited my love for the sport.
He is the reason I decided to leave my child and wife at home and join the commentary team over at Sky the next season.
Walking through those turnstiles for the first time in over two years at the start of the 2033 season and seeing Oscar in red up close was truly an illusion. He was the king of that paddock.
I could see the difference in his confidence, the car was a beast under him.
I attended five races that year as a commentator and one as a guest.
Hi Lando, I know this is weird but I think I'll win this weekend and you've been there for all the others so I was just wondering if you're going to be there with Sky.
Hey Oscar! No, I don't have plans to be there this weekend.
Do you want to? I can get you personal guest passes and you can bring your family as well.
Oscar had never met my little family. When Tay got pregnant, we quietly got married at the courthouse and then decided to get properly married later on. That day had not come yet, I don't know if I would've invited Oscar if we had had a big wedding then. Oscar (read: Lily) had sent Sophie a gift when she was born with a generic card, and Tay had sent a thank-you card back, but we hadn't talked. This was the first time we had texted outside the Driver's chat in over four years.
You guys know what happened next, I stood on his side of the Ferrari garage next to his mum, sisters, Lily and their son, holding back tears as he crossed the finish line, winning his fourth World Championship.
He cemented himself in the history books once again. And again I had the same thought I had had when I watched him win his first, "I hadn't fallen in love with a loser".
That day I realised I would always love Oscar, in some way, for the rest of my life, and that was okay.
I'm ashamed to admit that when he hugged me over the barrier at Parc Férme, I felt sad for the version of us that never could be. One where he hugged me as his something more than a former teammate.
Oscar retired the year after and, unlike me, didn't return as a commentator.
Alas, that was then, and this is now: The year after he retired, we ran into each other in Monaco, literally and got lunch. The first meal we had shared alone since he told me he was leaving me. We talked for hours, reminiscing and reopening old wounds. Except this time they didn't bleed, there was enough time for the skin to have healed with the only thing left, a permanent scar.
We had dinner together with our wives and kids, Oscar finally got to meet Tay and Sophie. Naturally, Lily and Tay hit it off instantly, and we've been on holiday together since. We also do text semi-regularly, mostly about Formula One but sometimes also when our next padel match is going to be.
I knew I couldn't write this autobiography without talking about him, I hope I did his impact on my life justice. This chapter is for me and those of you who were there. All of you who made edits and wrote stories, know that there was one side of that garage who also desperately wanted it to be true.
And to Mr Piastri, thank you. Thank you for being my longest (and best) teammate in Formula One. Thank you for always pushing me to be a better driver and, most of all, thank you for the butterflies.
- Lando