Over the Racing Line

The final seven laps of the season. What can possibly go wrong?

"Come on, we need a bit more out of you Stefan. Keep pushing."

As the young German driver crossed the start line to begin his 56th lap, his engineers reminded him of the need to close the gap. There were seven laps remaining including this one and he'd been struggling since his previous pit stop. Stefan Kurtz was no stranger to this feeling; just last season he'd found himself in a similar position fighting for 4th position in the final race of the season needing 3rd to claim his first World Championship. This time round all he needed was 6th, but Ryan Evans wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"OK on that lap he had you in sector one. His tyres are slightly fresher, but we're better in the straight line. Come on mate."

It had been a long season for Kurtz. Away from the track, his personal life had been more traumatic than he could've ever imagined. The press constantly rattled him about his relationship and getting right into him as if they knew everything and still wanted to know more. Kurtz was young but no rookie. He'd been driving for the Thomas Motors team for six years yet who he was sleeping was was infinitely more important to the media than how much he'd progressed. He knew he'd made a few mistakes this season. Every appearance they bugged him for answers on these erratic performances. It's hard to explain that it's not your love life causing the distraction but the failing health of a mother he felt so close to. Something so private he refused to discuss.

"Good work Stefan, you've closed the gap. He took turn 8 a bit wide and lost a second or so. Try and get him in the next 6 laps."

The team had had a fantastic season away from the drama of his errors from time to time. His team-mate was the experienced Mel Constance, the American that had become so synonymous with success after his 3 World Championships, in what many people regarded as his final season. Stefan knew he had one more to come, but they both knew the team would let the masses know on social media when the time was right. They made a good team - youth and experience always goes well - but he could finally prove to everyone that he was just as good as his infamous team-mate. Catching up to Evans was all he needed to do.

"OK, 3 seconds, we've got 5 more laps... you've closed the gap from 6 seconds so this is possible. Just stay cool Stef, close the gap, watch the tyres. Fuel is good."

So far the season had gone in a flash. Kurtz was second in the Championship but an early crash to his only title contender Felipe Estrada saw him in this position of needing 6th to be champion. He'd grabbed 3 wins this season but got quite a few podiums. A few crashes along the way brought him back down to reality on quite a few occasions so his ability to snatch a good result really helped him through the season. Of course, Esttrada had 5 wins this season but less podiums. They'd really complimented each other's abilities on track quite well this season.

"2 seconds. Come on Stefan. 4 laps. Fuel on the brink but you'll be good. Come on mate."

Stefan had stayed silent on the radio for a number of laps now. His visor displayed a stare of absolute focus at the track ahead of him as he gradually caught up to Evans ahead in the TTF car. As the laps had dwindled down he began to see the rear of Evans' car close in and in ahead of him. He knew he could do this. He felt it inside him that fate was coming his way. He felt that he had everything to prove to an enclosed world of media bullshit, class divide between the paddock and the fans and to his own home country who have never really been all that behind him.

"Stefan, how are the tyres feeling? We're getting vibration readings on the telemetry. 3 laps, it should be OK."

He did not respond. He remembered a notorious driver from many an age ago who shouted back at his engineers for talking at high pressure moments but that was what the old school did. He just stayed quiet and focused. The vibrations were absolutely evident; jumping onto the throttle after some of the circuit's long left and right handers put a huge amount of pressure on the tyres but he had to close this gap. He knew he was a comfortable gap ahead of Robert Brianne behind him, which at least helped with the focus ahead. However the pressure was growing.

"Stefan, we need to know about the tyres. Can you acknowledge?"

Two laps to go. He wasn't going to be distracted. Kurtz knew exactly how to handle these situations and just had to take it easy on those long esses. The gap to Evans was a little over a second. The emotion of the moment was beginning to seep into the senses of the Thomas Motors' driver as he tried to close the gap. He remembered some of the stupid moments he'd had at the start of the season. He remembered how he'd lost the championship the year before in such a similar situation. He remembered how angry it made him having members of the media shove microphones in his face like a dog in a pen. He remembered going home in the summer break to find the woman who had made him everything he is today in an uncontrollable fit. He remembered he was helpless.

There was a loud squeal. He'd not remembered to keep his focus.

"Stefan, are you OK? Is the engine still running?"

"Stefan, can you respond?"

The car was beached. He'd spun off at turn 8 into a gravel trap that had, luckily, slowed him down before the barrier but he couldn't get the car out. Kurtz sat there with his mind running a million miles an hour. It had all gone from the grasp of his hand. He'd lost it.

"Stefan, are you OK?"

As he went to remove his steering wheel from the car, the radio spluttered back into life back towards the team.

"Yes. I am OK."

If only they knew.