Thanks to Norris

part 49- next race

Thursday – Spielberg Media Day
Red Bull Ring, Austria
Your real home race.

The air in Spielberg always felt different — crisper, cleaner. It didn't buzz like Monaco or suffocate like Singapore. It breathed here. You knew it wasn't just the altitude or the pine trees. It was the quiet pride of being home.

Not just a home race. Your home race.

You may have grown up in Switzerland, but this — this was where your roots dug deepest. Your parents were already trackside when you arrived this morning. Your father wearing your team cap like it was a medal. Your mother had her phone out, recording absolutely everything like she didn't already have five thousand photos of you in a helmet.

PR obligations came first.
A blur of interviews, microphones shoved in your face, flashes, and endless questions:

Sky Sports
"Talk us through last weekend. That moment with Lando — you gave up the win."
You (measured):
"Sometimes it's not about the win. Sometimes it's about the right call."

Ziggo Sport
"It's your first time racing here since everything happened last season. Pressure?"
You (half-smiling):
"Always. But it's a good kind. It reminds me I care."

ORF – Austria's own
"You've raced for many flags. How does it feel to be back in Austria — truly representing home?"
You (genuinely):
"My parents are in the paddock. I speak German in the motorhome. I grew up watching this race from the gravel with them. It's everything."

The buzz was different here.
Not because the track was fast (it was).
Not because the fans were loud (they were).
But because this place knew you. The real you.

And somehow, after everything, you knew yourself again too.

Later That Afternoon – Motorhome

You sat with your parents outside the team hospitality unit. The sun spilled over the mountains. Your dad handed you a small photo — laminated, weathered.

It was you, age seven, wearing a Red Bull Racing cap two sizes too big, sitting on your dad's shoulders at this very circuit.

You (laughing softly):
"That's the same cap you wore this morning."

Dad (grinning):
"It still fits me better."

Your mom leaned in, brushing something off your collar like she still thought you were ten.

Mom (in German):
"No matter what happens this weekend, we're proud. Not for the racing. For how you carry yourself."

You blinked fast. Said nothing. Just nodded.

Evening – Driver's Briefing, Media Room Hallway

You caught sight of Lando leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when you passed. No smile — but his eyes lingered a beat longer than necessary.

Lando (quietly):
"Looks good on you. The calm."

You:
"That's because it's real this time."

He nodded. Almost proud. Almost wistful.

Before he could say more, someone called your name — your team press officer.

Time for the final round of interviews.
Another hour of lights, questions, fake smiles.

But this time —
With your family here, with Austria behind you,
With the ache softened —
You felt like you could handle anything.