Formula 1: The GOAT

Having completed his celebration lap, Fatih finally returned to a bustling pit lane. More than thirty karts were already there, undergoing the mandatory post-race inspections and weigh-ins. The process of checking if both the driver and the kart were over the minimum weight set by the organizers would take a very long time for the whole field. That, however, was not Fatih’s concern. As the winner, he, along with the other two podium finishers, was directed to the front of the queue for an express weigh-in.

He found Selçuk just stepping off the scale, helmet in hand. Fatih, still wearing his own helmet with the visor cracked open, met his rival’s gaze. Selçuk stared at Fatih for a few seconds, then dropped his head, a clear look of shame on his face for his actions during the race. He didn’t say a word, simply taking the official weigh-in slip handed to him and walking away with his coach. The official then called for Fatih.

“I can’t even be angry at him,” Fatih said quietly to Apollo as he stepped onto the scale. “His actions ended up benefiting me.”

“Rivalries are what push people to become their best,” Apollo replied, his translucent form floating effortlessly through the busy officials, visible only to Fatih. “The rivalry between Lauda and Hunt is a prime example. The System is using this dynamic to create similar effects, but only with individuals it deems talented enough to be worthy competitors at your current level.”

“Will the System trigger rivalry missions even if I’m the one causing trouble?” Fatih asked, his mind already calculating. Depending on the answer, he could potentially farm SP by cultivating an infamous or arrogant reputation.

“No,” Apollo stated firmly. “I don’t know the exact criteria for triggering those missions, as I am limited to providing tasks related to your training. However, I am confident that if you go around creating problems just to trigger missions, the System will not generate them. You would be the instigator, not the one being challenged. It will only create missions when it discovers someone genuinely stronger than you, or, as is the case now, when someone it deems talented challenges you, even if they have yet to reach your level.”

Apollo’s explanation concluded just as Fatih reached the interview area, a large backdrop filled with the names and logos of sponsors. Selçuk was already being interviewed by Zakir.

“I made a mistake, and I will be more careful in the future,” Selçuk said, his voice subdued, answering a question about the five-second penalty he’d received for the Lap 1, Turn 1 incident. The penalty had officially demoted him to P3, behind Jackson.

“Thank you, and good luck in the next round,” Zakir said, then welcomed Jackson, who was now officially P2. The look on Jackson’s face, however, showed none of the happiness one might expect from a post-race promotion.

“How difficult was it racing on a wet track while it was still raining?” Zakir asked after congratulating him.

“I tried my best… but it was difficult,” Jackson answered in broken Turkish. Despite the language barrier, his deep dissatisfaction with the outcome was palpable, the raw emotion of a seven-year-old who hadn’t gotten what he’d worked so hard for.

“As the defending champion, how do you feel about finishing P2, and how was it racing against Fatih this weekend?” Zakir asked, patting the boy’s shoulder sympathetically before continuing his work.

“Not good. I wanted to win,” Jackson answered bluntly, not sugarcoating his feelings. “Not happy about Fatih. But I promise to win the next round.”

After a few more questions, Zakir bid him farewell and welcomed Fatih to the interview board.

“Congratulations on winning your first-ever race,” Zakir said, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

“Thank you very much.”

“How difficult was it for you to recover after finding yourself at the back of a forty-kart pack on Lap 1?” Zakir asked, getting straight to the most interesting part.

“It wasn’t difficult,” Fatih answered calmly, trying to filter his words to sound like a child, but failing slightly. “The only thing that came to my mind was that I had to overtake thirty-nine karts to win. So, I knew I had to be calm and do my best, which I did.” The maturity of his answer surprised Zakir and the viewers watching from the grandstand.

“You answered very well, surprisingly so. Are you really only five years old?” Zakir asked with a chuckle.

“Yes, I’m five.”

“I believe you. When we saw the replay of the incident, we saw how you reacted to minimize the damage to your kart. Can you walk us through what was going through your mind?”

“I saw Selçuk coming and realized he wasn’t going to be able to stop in time,” Fatih explained simply. “So, I just followed my instincts, and they worked out.”

“’Instincts,’ you say?” Zakir repeated the word, almost wanting to cry. He had expected a detailed, technical breakdown, but Fatih had shattered that expectation by attributing it all to instinct. He quickly reminded himself he was interviewing a five-year-old, not a seasoned professional, and continued. “Were you using those same instincts during the race? You set five of the top ten fastest laps today, putting you in a different league than everyone else.”

“Yes,” Fatih answered, nodding his head.

“Selçuk received a five-second penalty for the incident. Do you think that’s enough, or should he have been punished more?”

“It doesn’t matter, since I won the race,” Fatih stated plainly, stopping there. He continued the answer in his mind, ’I wish they’d do this at every race. Thanks to him, I got the 5X multiplier for winning. Why would I complain about his penalty when my gains were a direct result of it?’ Only he and Apollo, who was now laughing heartily, could hear.

“You don’t care because you won. What a way to see things,” Zakir mused. “I’d love to ask you more, but unfortunately, we’re out of time and need to get you to the podium. Congratulations on your debut, your win, and good luck in your future career.” He gestured towards the podium area.

“Thank you,” Fatih said, heading towards the podium as the audience applauded. One by one, Selçuk, Jackson, and finally Fatih were called to the stage. The Turkish national anthem played, followed by the head of the TOSFED Mini Championship division handing them their medals and trophies, their finishing positions engraved upon them. The largest trophy, of course, was given to Fatih. He was also awarded the “Driver of the Weekend” trophy and the “Fastest Lap of the Race” trophy. He couldn’t carry them all at once, requiring Burak to come up and help him with the larger ones as he celebrated, waving to his mother and grandmother, who were clapping proudly in the grandstands.

After the ceremony, Burak took Fatih back to the academy’s tent. He changed his clothes and took off the sponsored racing gear, which, other than his personal helmet, would be returned to the academy for cleaning before the next race. Once he was done, he ran to his mother, who was waiting for him outside the tent, hugging her and his grandmother tightly. Burak had a small chat with them before they bade him farewell and headed to the parking lot. They started their journey home at exactly 17:00, the awards, interviews, and celebrations having taken nearly half an hour to complete.

……..

“He’s really tired,” Rümeysa said, glancing at the rearview mirror to find Fatih with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep. Despite losing an entire weekend she could have used to rest, a smile never left her face. She was far too happy to even consider it a burden.

“Yes, he should be tired mentally, after finding himself in that situation,” Güldane added, remembering the pit in her stomach when Fatih had fallen to last. She couldn’t imagine how he must have felt and wouldn’t have been surprised if he had quit in anger. But he had kept his calm and fought his way back to victory.

While they thought Fatih was sleeping, he was doing the exact opposite. Even if he wanted to sleep, he couldn’t; he was buzzing with excitement. He was finally looking at his winnings from the race weekend, the rewards the System had granted him the moment the race ended. He’d had to postpone checking them until now, and the anticipation was electric.