The year, 1986
“Good morning,
gentlemen. The temperature is 110 degrees.”
“Holy shit, it's
Viper!”
“Great, he's
probably saying, "Holy shit, it's Maverick and Goose."
Tom Cruise in the movie Top Gun played the role of a nonconformist,
free spirit pilot. Such was his aura that his call-sign ‘Maverick’ became an
instant hit with eccentric souls worldwide.
People wanted to dress like him. People wanted to walk like
him. People wanted to talk like him. Heck people even wanted to cry like him. Girls
loved him. Guys idolized him. He was probably the first man to defy the rules
and follow something as ‘petty’ as his instincts. Atleast that’s what the world
thought.
He wanted to be everywhere. He wanted to do everything. Best
of all, he wanted to be seen doing it as well. His decisions irked people. His
results pissed them further. But in the end it was his charismatic demeanor that
made him stand tall. He wanted people to follow him. To be drawn to his
persona.
The audacity of that guy!
The year, 1997
Max Verstappen is born.
The year, 2016
“Jesus Christ! And you
think I’m reckless. When I fly, I’ll have you know that my crew and my plane
come first.”
Verstappen seemed inconsolable following his team Toro
Rosso’s decision to not let him pass teammate Carlos Sainz Jr. on the grid. ‘Strategic
decision,’ they said. ‘Stifling character,’ they never said.
For someone who’s just 18 years old (2 of which have been
in Formula 1), it was indeed unbelievable. Why wouldn’t they let him fly? Was it because of his age?
Maybe! Was it because of his boldness? Let’s hope not. Or maybe it was because
they wouldn’t let him have a driver’s license till last year.
It’s true. Max’s father had to drive him to work in a car
just so that Max could race in one. Imagine a father driving his own son to a
Grand Prix where he could race in a 300 kmph supersonic speed-craft so mercurial
that one can experience the line where life meets death.
Seems twisted, doesn’t it? Not to the Verstappen
household apparently.
Max Verstappen was taught how to drive before he could
walk. His foot would fit an accelerator much better than it would fit into a
new shoe. He could put a car into reverse in his sleep and his steering wheel maneuvering
prowess would have saved the Titanic from those freaking icebergs.
But who cares about that anyway? Rules are rules, right?
A team is always supposed to favour their No. 1 driver. Schumacher
over Barrichello, Alonso over Fisichella, Vettel over Webber, Hamilton over
Rosb…. Ahem, excuse me!
Carlos Sainz Jr. is Toro Rosso’s No. 1 driver. He drives
safe races. All energy and effort needs to be put in helping him thrive. Not only
that, Sainz also outranks Verstappen. Not just in terms of age, but also in
terms of “Dad Experience”. Sainz Sr. trumps Verstappen Sr. and therefore the
same rule will be applicable to their sons as well.
Wait. No. That’s not right!
If anything Sainz Sr. never even drove in Formula 1.
Verstappen Sr. on the other hand has 2 podium finishes. Also, did I write Sainz
Jr. drives safe races before? That would have been an amazing asset had we been
handing out trophies to just finish races.
While one can’t argue that Sainz Jr. is definitely more ‘safe’
when it comes redeeming those no claim bonuses on car insurance, Verstappen is subliminally
more supreme in all senses. His driving is as serene as the clicking sound a
seat belt makes when things fall into place.
It’s bold, it’s brave, it’s just that damn beautiful!
No offense to Sainz Jr., but when a team such as Toro
Rosso, which seems to always be in the shadows of big brother Red Bull, is
given minimal resources then one just does not have options other than firing
all cylinders.
Case Point – United States Grand Prix 2015
“You’re everyone’s
problem. That’s because every time you fly, you’re unsafe. I don’t like you
because you’re dangerous.”
“That’s right,
Iceman! I am dangerous.”
For those who are regulars on the circuit, it is a well-known
fact that one just does not mess with Kimi Raikkonen. After all they call him
the ‘Iceman’ for a reason. He is a stone cold driver and can scorch even a wet
track beyond recognition. Everyone fears him. Everyone bows down to him. People
assemble at his behest.
Everyone except Max Verstappen!
Verstappen, racing for the first time ever in Austin, seems
cool. He’s calm, he’s composed, and he’s all over Raikkonen. For a circuit as
erratic as the Circuit of the Americas Max has everything in control. Sushine?
Check. Rain? Check. Pitstops? Check. Tyre management? Check. Fending the iceman?
Check.
For the last 5 turns Kimi has put up failed attempts to
overtake Verstappen. Kimi tries the outside route at turn 7. He knows that it’s
a long shot. But he sees an opening. Max, however, is too fast to block him. Too
fast for a minnow like Toro Rosso. Why doesn’t he fly like that all the time? How’s
he doing that?
Turn 8 up next. This is it, thinks the Finn. He tries the
inside route now. He implements a textbook maneuver to shove that pesky rookie off
track. But Max won’t be shoved around. He might be a rookie, but he’s pulling off
blinders on those hairpin turns. It’s as orgasmic as watching Kohli hit a cover
drive.
Turn 9 sees Kimi make up some ground. He’s back on the
outside though. A natural disadvantage for drivers. But not for him. He’s used
to these situations. He’s the king afterall. These jesters stand no chance of
withstanding the wrath, fury, and sorcery of the iceman. Something is up, it’s
a trap!
For the next three turns Kimi stays on the outside. He’s
not doing much it seems. He’s waiting for the 0.62-mile stretch between turns
11 and 12. This is more than just racing now. This is dogfighting at its best.
Like a cheetah skillfully prowls in the bush waiting for its prey, Kimi has set
Max up beautifully.
Time for DRS to do its thing. Zoom go the cars. Just a
matter of time before the rookie is shown his rightful place. If this was some
other driver, he would have stopped the car by now, turned off the engine,
prepared a speech on Kimi’s greatness, and then probably retired from racing.
However, good ol’ Max had other plans.
He sees what’s happening. He’s on top of it. He read
Kimi. He read the iceman. This isn’t natural. This is something new. Is this
even possible? Three-fourths of the stretch and a full DRS later Kimi is still
on Max’s tail. This is unconstitutional. This is tyranny. This is supersonic
evasion. Why won’t he fly again?
“You were in a four
G inverted dive with a MIG-28?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Lieutenant, what
were you doing there?”
“Communicating.
Keeping up the foreign relations. Giving him the bird.”
“So, you’re the
one?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
If Max Verstappen’s repulse against former world champion
Kimi Raikkonen was not a racing equivalent of showing him the finger then what
happened a minute later at turn 12 definitely was. Kimi has had enough. He’s completely
weathered. This is unchartered territory for him. It should be the other way.
He tries too hard to overtake and BOOM! Wheels bang,
wings break, gravel flies, and Raikkonen finds himself beside a barricade. How
did this happen? Well atleast it’s over. The dogfight has finally ended. There
was no winner. There won’t be any awkward glances in the pits now. The pride is
still intact.
If only!
Raikkonen looks up to steal a glimpse at Verstappen. It
would be good to see the spoils of the enemy war craft. Only Max isn’t there. He’s
nowhere. Nowhere in near sight. Wait, where is he again? He’s driving an
impeccable race enroute to finishing fourth on the grid. World champions for
breakfast!
‘Max’imum power, ‘Max’imum brutality!
The season-opening Australian Grand Prix too had its
share of ‘maximum power’ moments. From ripping the qualifying session apart to stalling
two-time defending world champion Lewis Hamilton during the main race. Max was
everywhere. Max was what made sense.
Four laps to go in the first race of the season. Max is
right on Sainz Jr.’s tail now. He’s burning more rubber every second than ever
before. Maximum force, maximum power indeed. He’s on fire, atleast
figuratively! Toro Rosso has been fitted with last year’s Ferrari engines.
This is not the time to play it safe. This is not the time to go for that
single point.
“Tower, this is
Ghostrider. Requesting a fly-by.”
“Negative
Ghostrider! The pattern is full.”
Sainz Jr. seems to be winning this war against Max without
even participating in it. Verstappen can’t believe it. He knows he has a better
chance than his teammate to overtake the Renault in front of them. But right
now he’s been told to hold back his position.
Three laps left. Why wouldn’t they let him fly?
He’s spun. Max has just clipped Sainz Jr. on the back.
Disaster has struck. The boss will be angry. Sainz Jr. races away. There’s no
damage to his car. Max, on the other hand, has just effectuated a doughnut.
Round and round and round he goes. Maximum power, maximum frustration, maximum
doughnuts!
“I’m losing
control. I can’t control it.”
“Mayday, Mayday!”
There we have it. That answers the question. He’s still
too young. He’s still too immature. He should have just listened. He could have
bagged an easy point. Now he’s losing seconds. Sainz Jr. has taken a 4-second
lead over his teammate now. Make that 5 seconds. Now 6. There’s no coming back.
Just two laps left and a healthy lead. Time to think of a good excuse and hit
the showers a little early.
But wait a minute. What’s happening?
Who’s that behind Sainz Jr.? Surely it can’t be him. But
it is. It’s him. He’s back. He’s flying. He’s reduced the lead back to 1
second. How is this happening? Is this for real? How could he have gained so
much so soon? Maybe Sainz Jr. slowed down. Are we sure that his car wasn’t affected?
No, his car escaped unscathed from that collision. The lead’s now less than 1
second. It’s the final lap. Can he? Will he?
“Damn, this kid is good..”
