Coming Home - A Lestappen Story

The Golden Years

"There is no person that love cannot heal; there is no soul that love cannot save."

- Carlos Santana

~

Dutch Grand Prix, Zandvoort

Max Verstappen's Grandstand was packed for qualifying, the roars of the fans echoing over all the drivers in the pit lane. Even with all the excitement surrounding his home race, he couldn't help but feel alone. 

He had everything he needed, except a caring father, but that was neither here nor there. Despite all that, he still felt completely abandoned by his team and while he had Charles to confide in, it didn't necessarily help him when he was alone by himself or with his team. 

Verstappen's car was struggling and it was evident in his lap times.

"That's P9 Max. You're into Q3, let's do this." His engineer spoke through his helmet. 

Verstappen was pulling his cars in and out of corners, left and right, mastering the intermediate tires, but all he could muster was a shameful P9. 

"I have to do better. I have no choice" He muttered to himself as he prepared for the third and final session. 

The Dutchman was facing both Ferraris, both McLarens, both Mercedes, the list goes on and on. Max's teammate, of course, was eliminated in Q2, only managing a P13 finish. But Max couldn't worry about his teammate now though, he had to place his Redbull on the front row, preferably pole position. 

"Heavy rain ending now, intermediates expected to still be the best tire for the entirety of Q3." His engineer broke through the radio. These were conditions that Max loved in his home race, wet enough to disturb anyone new or unsure of the track ahead, but not so wet that he can't perform well himself. 

Max was one of the first cars out, wanting to take advantage of the track on his new set of intermediate tires. His fastest lap was blistering, a whole 6 tenths ahead of Carlos in P2 who had managed to get a good lap in his scarlet red Ferrari. 

"That's P1. Great work Max. Let's win this thing tomorrow" his engineer said over the radio, but he couldn't even hear it, the roar of the grandstands was so loud that it practically shook the entire circuit. He did it, he placed his car on pole position. 

You'd think that a driver who had just had a wonderful qualifying session would first reply over the radio with a "Thank you" or "Let's win this thing", but Max's first and only question over the radio was "Where did Leclerc place?" 

This wasn't all that out of place for him to be asking, as of course it was Leclerc fighting him for the championship.

"P10 Max. He couldn't get out of the pits for his final lap, mechanical issue." Max took in this information, he felt bad for Charles but knew he would probably see him in the latter half of the race when he would inevitably pull his big red tractor up the field and fighting for the win anyways. 

Max pulled his car into the P1 parking spot on the track, pulled himself out of his vehicle, and rose his hands above his head as the fans got even louder. This is where he was his happiest, if only Leclerc was there in P2 to party alongside him. 

Verstappen strolled over to the FIA weigh-in with his head to the ground, honestly just overwhelmed with emotions until he heard a familiar voice from behind him. 

"Great work out there Max." Charles said as he placed his helmet at his side and pulling the taller driver in for a professional side hug. 

Max's eyes lit up immediately when he recognized it was Charles, all he wanted to do was yap about his sector times and how his car was performing, but he knew there was another time for that. "What happened with your car?" Max asked, his dutch accent drowned out by the crowds still roaring.