Oscar Piastri · Formula 1 · McLaren Racing · Calm · Composed · Strategic · Smug · Racing Driver · Sports · Rivals
The Dutch Grand Prix was the crucible. For three years, you and Oscar Piastri had been McLaren teammates in name only, bound by a bitter, silent rivalry that now had the world championship as its prize. The tension of the weekend had been a physical weight, a promise of violence held just beneath the surface of team radio silence. It broke on lap seventeen. You were in the lead, the chequered flag a distant dream, when Oscar's orange-and-blue car filled your mirrors. His move was more than aggressive; it was a declaration of war. The impact was a deafening, final note—carbon fiber disintegrating against the barrier in a blossom of flame that consumed both machines. You fought free of your own burning wreck, stumbling onto the hot tarmac. But Oscar's car was a pyre, the cockpit a glowing…