Into the Apex

Cracks Beneath the Surface

By the time the 2023 Formula 1 season reached rounds 5, 6, and 7, Masachika Kuze's mental state was beginning to fray at the edges. Despite his best efforts to put on a brave face for the fans and media, the weight of the ongoing struggles at Aston Martin was becoming impossible to ignore. The team's focus remained squarely on Sebastian Vettel, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Masachika was being left to fight his own battles in a car that simply wasn't up to the task.

The bright lights of Miami were meant to be a fresh start, a new opportunity in a glamorous city. But for Masachika, the race weekend was anything but a chance for reinvention. He put on his usual composed front, walking through the paddock with a practiced smile, greeting fans, and talking to the media as if everything was perfectly fine. But behind the scenes, things were spiraling. The cracks in his facade were becoming too big to cover up.

Miami's practice sessions hadn't gone smoothly for Masachika. Despite his frustration with the car, he fought through the discomfort, trying to salvage whatever he could. The Aston Martin had shown flashes of pace, but it was far from a consistent contender. And the more Masachika pushed, the more it felt like he was driving a car that was actively working against him.

"I'm giving everything I've got, but this car feels like it's always a step behind," Masachika muttered to his race engineer during the Saturday briefing. His tone was sharp, edged with impatience. He was tired of the constant fight. He knew the media would want him to stay positive, to sell the narrative of an underdog story. But his mental state was rapidly deteriorating. He was losing his composure bit by bit.

Sunday's race at the Miami Grand Prix was a small glimmer of light in an otherwise bleak season. Masachika finished 7th, a result that exceeded his expectations given the state of the car. He was visibly relieved after crossing the line, his jaw tense as he fought to maintain his calm. The result, however, didn't erase the tension building within him. He had done well, but it wasn't enough. Not by a long shot. Sebastian Vettel, meanwhile, had finished 9th, not too far behind, but the gap in performance was enough to keep the team's focus on him. There was no celebration in the Aston Martin garage. Just more of the same.

The media might have thought that Masachika was happy with his result. He managed to smile through the post-race interviews, answering questions about strategy and his performance with the kind of polished professionalism expected of a driver at his level. But inside, the frustration was bubbling up. It was a façade. And he was getting tired of it.

By the time the Monaco Grand Prix rolled around, Masachika was running on fumes. The pressure of having to maintain a perfect image, to constantly act as if everything was fine, was exhausting. Monaco was always a test of nerves, but for Masachika, it felt like the final straw. He knew the expectations for a good result here were higher, and after the relative success of Miami, there was an added sense of hope that this could be his breakthrough race. But as the weekend unfolded, those hopes quickly began to unravel.

The practice sessions were a disaster. The car's handling on the narrow streets of Monaco was a nightmare, and Masachika's confidence in the car took another hit. He struggled to find any rhythm, the lack of rear grip making every corner feel like a challenge. And yet, despite the constant discomfort, Masachika kept up the act. He went through the motions, still holding his composure in front of the cameras and the press.

"I'll work with the engineers to find a better setup," he said after a lackluster qualifying session. His voice was steady, but his eyes told a different story—there was a frustration there, one he had trouble containing.

Race day in Monaco was even worse. The Aston Martin was uncompetitive, and Masachika found himself struggling for grip around the tight streets of Monte Carlo. By the end of the race, he was lapped and finished a miserable 16th. His race engineer tried to reassure him over the radio, but the words barely registered. There was nothing to say. Nothing could change the fact that he was stuck in a car that couldn't keep up.

As he climbed out of the car and walked back to the garage, he didn't even acknowledge the cameras. There was no smile, no wave. Just a silent walk, a tightness in his chest that felt too heavy to carry any longer. The pressure was getting to him. As he met the engineers and spoke with Mike Krack, his frustration boiled over.

"You need to tell me what you want from me!" Masachika snapped, his voice sharp with anger. "I can't keep pushing this car when it doesn't have the pace. I'm doing everything I can, but you're asking me to drive a car that's half a second slower than the rest of the grid! I'm not a magician!"

Mike Krack, visibly taken aback, tried to calm him down. "Masachika, we're doing everything we can with the resources we have. You're doing fine. We need to work together to improve."

"Fine?" Masachika's voice rose, the tension in the air palpable. "This isn't fine. I'm not going to keep pretending like it is. I'm the one out there, not you!"

The confrontation was brief, but the damage was done. Masachika's mask had slipped, and for the first time in the 2023 season, the pressure of his situation was visible. The team knew it, the media would eventually catch on, and Masachika was left with the uncomfortable realization that no matter how hard he tried to bury it, his mental state was crumbling.

Spain was the tipping point. The Monaco disaster had left a bitter taste, but the Spanish Grand Prix, with its high-speed corners and technical demands, was the final straw. The pressure between Masachika and Vettel had been simmering for weeks, and it finally came to a head during the race. Aston Martin had already fallen behind the likes of Ferrari, Mercedes, and Red Bull, but Masachika couldn't shake the feeling that the team's favoritism towards Vettel was making it worse. Every strategy call, every decision about the car's upgrades, seemed to favor Vettel. It was as if the team had already decided that he was their future.

The race itself was a disaster for both drivers. In a high-speed battle between the two Aston Martins, a slight miscalculation during a wheel-to-wheel moment led to a collision. Masachika and Vettel were both forced to retire from the race. The wreckage of their cars lay on the side of the track, and Masachika, frustrated beyond belief, slammed his fist against the side of his cockpit.

"Damn it!" he screamed, the fury in his voice echoing over the radio. "We were having a decent race!"

The media would later describe the collision as an unfortunate racing incident, but for Masachika, it was more than that. It was a culmination of everything that had been eating away at him for weeks. The unrelenting pressure, the constant struggle with a car that wouldn't cooperate, the team that wasn't fully behind him—it all exploded in that one, fateful moment. The idea of fighting for something that wasn't even given a chance felt like too much to bear.

He stormed away from the wreckage, his hands shaking, his mind racing. As he walked back to the Aston Martin garage, his mind was a whirlwind of anger, regret, and a growing sense of despair. He was at his breaking point.

This wasn't just a bad race—it was a turning point. The rest of the season loomed ahead, but Masachika wasn't sure how much more of this fight he could endure. The mental toll of the year was becoming too much, and the weight of it was dragging him down, piece by piece. He had managed to mask his feelings from the world for so long, but now, the cracks were beginning to show. And as the season stretched on, Masachika knew that he couldn't keep this up forever.