Ship/Member: Mingyu(/Wonwoo if you squint) Major Tags: none Additional Tags: formula 1 au, introspection Permission to remix: Yes
***
WHEN MINGYU WAS SIXTEEN AND BEGAN HIS CAREER IN FORMULA THREE, someone told him that he needed to understand that he could possibly be his own downfall if he lets the whole thing get into his head too much. He doesn’t remember now if it was his former race engineer or if it was his performance trainer who told him that, but oddly enough, he only remembers it now that he’s fighting for his spot in Formula One.
He’s twenty-seven now and still without a world title after a total of forty one podiums, twenty fastest laps, and twelve race wins despite being eight years in his F1 career. He remembers stepping into a Mercedes once, his race engineer telling him that it would finally be his year. That was three years ago.
For some reason, despite his record-breaking career debut (two wins and three podiums), and a stellar amount of points gathered for all of his teams, he seems to be unable to land a single world driver’s championship trophy.
He leaves the simulation room thinking about the recent numbers in his races. Wonwoo, his race engineer, told him that he should let the engineering team worry about the numbers, that he should just continue driving and tell them if the car feels good.
“You should stick to getting a feel for the car instead of stressing about the numbers. That’s our job, Kim.” Wonwoo gives him a pat on the back, but Mingyu’s stomach is still unravelling, like there are unruly moths inside of it rather than butterflies.
“I hope that’s not a dig at my intellect.” Mingyu knows it isn’t, but he also hates being told to not worry about the numbers. He’s a driver, for god’s sake, he’s supposed to deliver good results, and good results mean good statistics, which means he should absolutely worry about the numbers.
“You should have become an engineer with how obsessed you are with your race statistics.” Wonwoo laughs, but Mingyu only keeps a straight face.
“Oh… I didn’t mean to…” Wonwoo trails off and proceeds to excuse himself, pretending to be busy with the simulator, checking the recent fastest lap time, checking the tyres, checking everything including the goddamn wires.
Mingyu just stands there thinking about how much he wants to throw up, but can’t.
THE PRE-RACE BRIEFING IS ALWAYS THE WORST. Mingyu hates being told what to do. Hates that he would ultimately have to follow whatever strategy the team comes up with, and hates that he must acknowledge the possibility of relinquishing a good spot to his teammate if it comes down to it.
His teammate is a kid, fairly new, fairly decent. The kid didn’t have a breath taking debut the way Mingyu did, but the kid also debuted on a midfield team and not in a powerhouse team like Mingyu did.
(He doesn’t know which one is more embarrassing, the fact that the kid debuted in a midfield team but earned more points than he did during the last race, or the fact that he’s salty about that despite knowing full well that the car he’s driving now is not a Mercedes… a car he isn’t used to.)
(Secret third thing to be embarrassed about: He knows it’s not the car’s fault, or the kid’s. He just can’t seem to drive the way he used to.)
Mingyu’s head floats for the majority of the pre-race briefing. He knows the script all too well, get the points, try to get a podium or a win — if you can, but just ultimately… get the points. They’re eighth in the constructors, though, and it would probably take a miracle before they could even lay their hands on the constructors’ trophy, but Mingyu lets his team principal dream.
Before he leaves, his team principal places his hand on Mingyu’s shoulder.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kim. Your overthinking makes your driving inconsistent and volatile.”
Mingyu knows that, of course he does, but the thing with overthinking is you just don’t know when or how to stop. It’s even harder when you’re driving at a speed of 300 kilometres per hour.
Still, Mingyu pretends that he’s going to try, and leaves the briefing room with a smile on his face that never really reaches his eyes.
“Goodluck out there,” The kid, Lee Heeseung, gives him an encouraging smile.
It works the opposite of how the kid intended for it, though. Instead of being encouraged, or even somewhat un-burdened, Mingyu only feels annoyed.
IT’S NO SURPRISE THAT MINGYU LOSES. AGAIN. He sits in ninth place, four places above the kid. He takes his small victory (beating the kid), but still mourns over his loss (not winning). It has been two years since he moved from Mercedes to Alpine, but he still couldn’t get used to losing.
He should have seen it coming, really. Alpine never really made it on podiums these days. The cars have been getting more and more difficult to drive, and it’s getting harder to adjust especially when you come from driving an even better car.
“There’s a lot of understeer on my car, and while the super softs had enough grip, the car just… wouldn’t cooperate with me.” Heeseung looks like he’s about to cry. Mingyu would have made fun of Heeseung in his head if the same thing didn’t happen to him.
“I had a lot of understeer with mine, too. I think it could be the suspension? Perhaps you guys could look into it for us?” Mingyu looks over at Wonwoo who nods upon silent acknowledgement.
They still haven’t had a friendly conversation after Wonwoo’s joking comment about Mingyu’s career choices. Mingyu doesn’t usually hold grudges, but Wonwoo’s words have been repeating themselves in Mingyu’s head over and over again that he’s starting to believe Wonwoo might be completely right.
Still, he’s not giving this up. He’s already had a taste of what it’s like to win. He doesn’t know if he could stop chasing after that high.
HE LOSES IN MONZA, SPA, THEN SINGAPORE. There’s only one race left and Mingyu knows that even if he wins that race, he’s never going to get his team a Driver Championship trophy, or a Constructor’s trophy. The most he could give them is a promising finish with all of the points that he could muster.
Or, if he’s delusional enough, maybe he could deliver a good performance and win the race, giving his team a bump up the Constructor’s rankings despite the lack of a foreseeable win.
Mingyu knows that the team isn’t expecting much, not when they’re still in the middle of their multiple-year plan to get Alpine on top of the grid. They just want him to try his best and hopefully good results come out of it, that’s really all they’re expecting.
However, it still feels absolutely shitty that despite all of Mingyu’s efforts to be the iconic rookie everyone used to adore, he’s just another driver in the midfield, unable to do anything but lose out to younger, much faster drivers.
He looks at the numbers on the screen and tries to make sense of it before eventually giving up. He sees Wonwoo observing him from the entryway and Mingyu pretends to yawn just to mask his eyes glistening with tears that are about to fall.
“Go get some sleep. I’ll deal with the numbers for you.” Wonwoo gently pats him on the shoulder, “Your time will come soon. Don’t worry about it.”
Mingyu only looks at Wonwoo and gives him a halfhearted smile before walking out of the HQ with shaking palms hidden in his coat pockets.
[FILL] forthcoming
Major Tags: none
Additional Tags: formula 1 au, introspection
Permission to remix: Yes
***
WHEN MINGYU WAS SIXTEEN AND BEGAN HIS CAREER IN FORMULA THREE, someone told him that he needed to understand that he could possibly be his own downfall if he lets the whole thing get into his head too much. He doesn’t remember now if it was his former race engineer or if it was his performance trainer who told him that, but oddly enough, he only remembers it now that he’s fighting for his spot in Formula One.
He’s twenty-seven now and still without a world title after a total of forty one podiums, twenty fastest laps, and twelve race wins despite being eight years in his F1 career. He remembers stepping into a Mercedes once, his race engineer telling him that it would finally be his year. That was three years ago.
For some reason, despite his record-breaking career debut (two wins and three podiums), and a stellar amount of points gathered for all of his teams, he seems to be unable to land a single world driver’s championship trophy.
He leaves the simulation room thinking about the recent numbers in his races. Wonwoo, his race engineer, told him that he should let the engineering team worry about the numbers, that he should just continue driving and tell them if the car feels good.
“You should stick to getting a feel for the car instead of stressing about the numbers. That’s our job, Kim.” Wonwoo gives him a pat on the back, but Mingyu’s stomach is still unravelling, like there are unruly moths inside of it rather than butterflies.
“I hope that’s not a dig at my intellect.” Mingyu knows it isn’t, but he also hates being told to not worry about the numbers. He’s a driver, for god’s sake, he’s supposed to deliver good results, and good results mean good statistics, which means he should absolutely worry about the numbers.
“You should have become an engineer with how obsessed you are with your race statistics.” Wonwoo laughs, but Mingyu only keeps a straight face.
“Oh… I didn’t mean to…” Wonwoo trails off and proceeds to excuse himself, pretending to be busy with the simulator, checking the recent fastest lap time, checking the tyres, checking everything including the goddamn wires.
Mingyu just stands there thinking about how much he wants to throw up, but can’t.
THE PRE-RACE BRIEFING IS ALWAYS THE WORST. Mingyu hates being told what to do. Hates that he would ultimately have to follow whatever strategy the team comes up with, and hates that he must acknowledge the possibility of relinquishing a good spot to his teammate if it comes down to it.
His teammate is a kid, fairly new, fairly decent. The kid didn’t have a breath taking debut the way Mingyu did, but the kid also debuted on a midfield team and not in a powerhouse team like Mingyu did.
(He doesn’t know which one is more embarrassing, the fact that the kid debuted in a midfield team but earned more points than he did during the last race, or the fact that he’s salty about that despite knowing full well that the car he’s driving now is not a Mercedes… a car he isn’t used to.)
(Secret third thing to be embarrassed about: He knows it’s not the car’s fault, or the kid’s. He just can’t seem to drive the way he used to.)
Mingyu’s head floats for the majority of the pre-race briefing. He knows the script all too well, get the points, try to get a podium or a win — if you can, but just ultimately… get the points. They’re eighth in the constructors, though, and it would probably take a miracle before they could even lay their hands on the constructors’ trophy, but Mingyu lets his team principal dream.
Before he leaves, his team principal places his hand on Mingyu’s shoulder.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kim. Your overthinking makes your driving inconsistent and volatile.”
Mingyu knows that, of course he does, but the thing with overthinking is you just don’t know when or how to stop. It’s even harder when you’re driving at a speed of 300 kilometres per hour.
Still, Mingyu pretends that he’s going to try, and leaves the briefing room with a smile on his face that never really reaches his eyes.
“Goodluck out there,” The kid, Lee Heeseung, gives him an encouraging smile.
It works the opposite of how the kid intended for it, though. Instead of being encouraged, or even somewhat un-burdened, Mingyu only feels annoyed.
IT’S NO SURPRISE THAT MINGYU LOSES. AGAIN. He sits in ninth place, four places above the kid. He takes his small victory (beating the kid), but still mourns over his loss (not winning). It has been two years since he moved from Mercedes to Alpine, but he still couldn’t get used to losing.
He should have seen it coming, really. Alpine never really made it on podiums these days. The cars have been getting more and more difficult to drive, and it’s getting harder to adjust especially when you come from driving an even better car.
“There’s a lot of understeer on my car, and while the super softs had enough grip, the car just… wouldn’t cooperate with me.” Heeseung looks like he’s about to cry. Mingyu would have made fun of Heeseung in his head if the same thing didn’t happen to him.
“I had a lot of understeer with mine, too. I think it could be the suspension? Perhaps you guys could look into it for us?” Mingyu looks over at Wonwoo who nods upon silent acknowledgement.
They still haven’t had a friendly conversation after Wonwoo’s joking comment about Mingyu’s career choices. Mingyu doesn’t usually hold grudges, but Wonwoo’s words have been repeating themselves in Mingyu’s head over and over again that he’s starting to believe Wonwoo might be completely right.
Still, he’s not giving this up. He’s already had a taste of what it’s like to win. He doesn’t know if he could stop chasing after that high.
HE LOSES IN MONZA, SPA, THEN SINGAPORE. There’s only one race left and Mingyu knows that even if he wins that race, he’s never going to get his team a Driver Championship trophy, or a Constructor’s trophy. The most he could give them is a promising finish with all of the points that he could muster.
Or, if he’s delusional enough, maybe he could deliver a good performance and win the race, giving his team a bump up the Constructor’s rankings despite the lack of a foreseeable win.
Mingyu knows that the team isn’t expecting much, not when they’re still in the middle of their multiple-year plan to get Alpine on top of the grid. They just want him to try his best and hopefully good results come out of it, that’s really all they’re expecting.
However, it still feels absolutely shitty that despite all of Mingyu’s efforts to be the iconic rookie everyone used to adore, he’s just another driver in the midfield, unable to do anything but lose out to younger, much faster drivers.
He looks at the numbers on the screen and tries to make sense of it before eventually giving up. He sees Wonwoo observing him from the entryway and Mingyu pretends to yawn just to mask his eyes glistening with tears that are about to fall.
“Go get some sleep. I’ll deal with the numbers for you.” Wonwoo gently pats him on the shoulder, “Your time will come soon. Don’t worry about it.”
Mingyu only looks at Wonwoo and gives him a halfhearted smile before walking out of the HQ with shaking palms hidden in his coat pockets.