Formula 1: The GOAT

“My name is Aslan, Selçuk’s father,” the man said, his voice calm and authoritative the moment Fatih finished hugging his mother and grandmother. Fatih turned to face the group, putting on a look of childlike curiosity. Aslan gestured to the man beside him. “And this is my friend, Aron, Jackson’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand for a handshake after introducing his part of the entourage.

“My name is Fatih. Nice to meet you,” Fatih replied in his practiced childlike voice, his small hand enveloped by Aslan’s as he used both of his to complete the handshake. The gesture elicited a few warm chuckles from the adults at the table. He then shook hands with Aron.

“Nice to meet you,” Aron said, his Turkish broken but friendly, spoken with a distinct English accent as he smiled warmly.

“I’m Salih, from the Fatih Karting Academy,” one of the two remaining men introduced himself, extending his hand to Fatih with a professional smile. “I’m here to observe our drivers.”

“And I’m Ibrahim, a representative from TOSFED. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the last man said, adjusting his suit before offering his hand. Fatih shook it with the same polite smile he had given the others.

’Looks like this is the final meeting regarding the sponsorship,’ Fatih thought as he walked back to the seat between his mother and grandmother, accepting the juice his mother handed him. He began drinking from the straw, projecting an air of innocence. ’It’s most likely an interview with the subject of the potential sponsorship—which is me. But why is a TOSFED representative here? Is he a mandatory supervisor because the subject is a child, or did someone here request his presence?’

’If I were to make a guess, it is probably the latter,’ Apollo’s voice echoed in his mind. His mentor’s form appeared, phasing through the table as he moved. ’Your mother is very careful when it comes to matters concerning you. This is likely just her being cautious.’

’Aren’t you supposed to be all-knowing or something? Why are you making guesses?’ Fatih asked curiously. Apollo’s behavior didn’t quite match the omniscient System he had imagined.

’You keep confusing me with the System,’ Apollo replied, his expression turning serious. His translucent body, half above and half below the table, gestured animatedly as if defending himself from a potential accusation. ’The System might be all-knowing—of that, I am not sure, as I also have very little information about it. But as for me, the only thing I can claim to know for sure is everything related to driving. For everything else, *you* are my primary source of information, unless the System determines that I am in need of knowing a specific thing, in which case it provides me with that information.’

’I believe you,’ Fatih thought, ending the internal debate just as Aslan began to speak to him directly.

“Fatih, what is your dream?” Aslan asked gently.

’Ah, you’re testing my ambition,’ Fatih recognized immediately. ’Then let’s give you an answer you’ll be recounting in a future documentary about me.’ He looked Aslan straight in the eye, his young face a mask of unwavering confidence. “To become a Formula 1 multi-champion driver.”

His answer, as expected, caused a momentary, stunned silence to fall over the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Fatih saw Apollo looking at him with an expression that clearly asked, ’What is wrong with this kid?’ Fatih simply ignored him, continuing to act as if what he had just said was not an outlandish statement for a five-year-old.

It wasn’t long before a few chuckles broke the silence.

“It is good to dream big,” Aron, Jackson’s father, said calmly. There was no hint of discouragement in his voice, only genuine curiosity about the boy’s conviction. “But you know that to achieve that will be very difficult. It will require you to have the discipline to practice every single year until you are much older. Do you know that?”

“Yes, I know,” Fatih responded with a simple nod.

“Do you know what it takes to become a Formula 1 driver?” Salih, the academy representative, asked, leaning forward, expecting a vague, childish answer.

’Talent, forty superlicense points by the time I’m old enough, an academy seat, and…’ Fatih listed the requirements in his mind. Since some of those things weren’t even requirements in the current era, he chose the most obvious and universal answer. “Money,” he said, extending his small hands wide to emphasize the quantity. “Lots of money.”

Another round of warm laughter covered the table. The questions continued, and Fatih, keeping with his established persona, answered in a childlike but surprisingly insightful manner, never too specific, but always hinting at a deeper understanding.

………

While that conversation continued, Selçuk, having just completed a lengthy debrief with his coach, stood at a distance, his hands clenched into tight fists. He was watching his father, Aslan, constantly smiling and laughing as Fatih spoke. It was a warmth and joy he had so rarely seen directed at himself, not even on holidays or his own birthdays. But now, he was seeing it with his own eyes, lavished upon Fatih.

’Is father going to abandon me and choose him to be his son?’ His young mind, unable to process the complex emotions, immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

At the thought, a tremor ran through him, and a single, hot tear escaped his eye. He felt a surge of angry frustration, the urge to throw a tantrum, but he fought it down. He knew his father disliked such behavior, and if he acted out now, it would only push him further away. It would only increase the chances of his father making the decision to abandon him and adopt Fatih instead—Fatih, who was calm, who won, who didn’t throw tantrums. He loved his father, and he didn’t want to lose him.

’What does he have that I don’t?’ he asked himself, his gaze drifting to Fatih, who was having his mouth lovingly wiped by his mother. It was a familiar gesture, one he had received from his own mother countless times. The sight sent his emotions into even greater turmoil. He had his mother’s love, but he desperately craved his father’s. And from the look of it, Fatih had both. “This is so unfair,” he whispered, before turning and walking back towards the pitlane, his fists still clenched.

He barged into the team tent, finding his coach still there, looking over a piece of paper. The man raised his head, surprised. “Did you forget something, Selçuk?”

“Teacher… I want to beat Fatih,” Selçuk said, his voice serious but shaking with barely contained emotion. “Please, tell me how.”

’Since Father likes you because you win races, all I have to do is win,’ he resolved fiercely in his mind. ’That should be enough for him to look at me the way he looks at you.’ He walked closer to his coach and repeated his request, his determination so intense it made his coach wonder what could have possibly happened to cause such a profound change.

……..

Just moments after Selçuk had returned to the tent, Jackson found himself in the same area, observing the same scene: his father laughing with Fatih’s family. But his reaction was the complete opposite of Selçuk’s. He immediately waved at his father, who saw him and waved back, beckoning for him to join them. Jackson’s face lit up, and he happily ran over to the group, hugging his father before settling into his lap, ready to join the conversation.