✦Open the Gates - Zach Bryan✦
Prompt: Isla Ricciardo is going to do what her father wasn't allowed to, and she'll do it by doing what she does best: Grabbing the bull by the horns.
I heard you died out in Cheyenne
With my mother’s ring on your hand
A note in your pocket said I love you till I die
Max stares at the Instagram post. Daniel’s back is plastered with the team logos, his helmet under his arm. He clicks off of Insta, moving to his contacts, scrolling quickly before tapping on one, a honey pot emoji being the only thing that distinguishes it.
“You’re really done, aren’t you?”
A staticy silence follows his question. Max can see Daniel’s face, can imagine the red eyes and quivering lip.
“I’m done.” It’s final and so heavy, the way Daniel says it. Max swallows, feeling his eyes start to burn.
“She threatened to put salt in Horner’s coffee and a spider in Helmut’s desk,” Daniel answers, a wet laugh accompanying. Max lets out a huffy laugh as well, imagining the young girl’s face. Her eyes would probably be blazing, the same fire as her father’s.
“I’m sorry that we failed you. I’m sorry we couldn’t give that championship to you,” Max chokes the words out, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. Speaking the words out loud feels like nailing the coffin shut.
“You didn’t fail me Maxie, it was never you. It was just how things happened.” Daniel’s voice is also choked up, tight with emotions. “You were the best, are the best, teammate I ever had. I wouldn’t have changed us for a hundred championships.”
Max laughs, letting the rest of the tears fall.
“It’ll always be us, Daniel.”
I can hear the bulls are coming to claim what they've been huntin'
The son of a cowboy can't claim his daddy's right
“History is being made today in the 2035 season, in a surprising place.”
“I think it’s Her-story rather than history, right?”
“I suppose you’re right. Isla Ricciardo, daughter of former F1 driver Daniel Ricciardo, is making her F1 debut with her father’s old team, Red Bull Racing. And at a fresh 17 at that, the youngest since Max Verstappen.”
“Something with Aussie blood, youngsters, and Red Bull, isn’t there? It’s astounding that the FIA signed off on that, by the way.”
“Feels like it. Max Verstappen was 17. Mark Webber, Daniel Ricciardo, Oscar Piastri for a short stint, and if you wanted to count Liam Lawson you could.”
“Isla continues that legacy, and is honoring her father with the number 3 placed on her car.”
“Fans and other drivers alike are eagerly watching the youngster, wanting to see where she’ll go.”
“Isla, how are you feeling ahead of your first race?”
A familiar smile, warm eyes and curly hair. The splitting image of her father, Isla sat tall in her seat.
“Excited, terrified, and feeling a bit insane. You know, the normal.”
Soft laughter and a few smiles, but the other drivers can see her hands shake in her lap, knuckles pale from clenching the mic so hard.
“Debuting as the first female F1 driver in nearly 50 years, and with a big name like Red Bull, what are your expectations for this season?”
“Quite a loaded question, yeah? Anyway, I’ve not got any real expectations going into this. Not as a bad thing, but I’m just trying to come in blank. This is unprecedented in modern Formula 1. There’s been plenty of women in other aspects of the sport, but it’s been so long since a woman has driven in the sport. Not to mention, Red Bull has a bit of a taste for Aussie blood, yeah?”
A few people let out awkward laughs, but most people know what she means. Mark Webber never got that championship trophy, nor did Daniel Ricciardo. Oscar Piastri got so close, but his two years in the team were just short. Isla was next in line.
And my baby, she's been cryin' at the thought of me dyin'
She knows there's no stopping a man and his foolish pride
“You’re not changing your mind, are you?” Isla looks up at her boyfriend from the ground, hair falling in her eyes as she adjusts the suspension of her bike.
“And your dad’s ok with it?”
Isla had heard the question a million times. Everyone wanted to know how her dad felt about her joining F1, but especially how he felt about her doing it with Red Bull.
“He knows why I picked them.”
Caleb doesn’t respond, but he sits down next to her, watching her as she works. They sit in silence for a while, the noise of the farm and metal clinking their background music.
“Whatever happens, knock them dead. Make them remember you,” Caleb finally whispers, taking her hand in his. Isla gives him a smile, wide and sparkling.
So, open the gates, I'm here to prove
I'm better than my father was
And where he came from, too
Open the gates, I'm here to ride To-hell-I-go, with daddy by my side
“She qualified 12th in Bahrain, finished 10th. Now she qualifies 7th, and finishes 3rd! What a spectacular start to her racing career, Isla Ricciardo podiums in Australia!”
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had an Aussie on the podium here, the last being Oscar Piastri in 2032. Australia has not been kind in the past, but it seems she has a soft spot for her daughter.”
“**** yeah! That’s how we do it boys!”
“Caleb’s trying not to cry, but your dad is.”
“Sappy old man! I love them both.”
“I’m sure Daniel is ecstatic for his daughter, what a fantastic performance.”
“I’d certainly be proud as her father. Her driving has been nothing short of fantastic, and her style is very clearly reminiscent of Daniel’s.”
Melbourne screams for her daughter as the day bleeds into night. Signs cover the city with Isla’s face plastered on them, her podium being rejoiced. Daniel smiles bright, wrinkles lining his eyes. The grey in his hair is noticeable under the club lighting, but he doesn’t really care. Isla is laughing and dancing with her friends and boyfriend.
“She’s a mini badger.” Daniel turns to his left, laughing at the face he sees. Max is smiling at him, gin and tonic in hand and plain black t-shirt on. There’s less grey in his hair than there is in Daniel’s. For a second, it transports him back to their time as teammates.
“She’s her father’s daughter, and watched a few too many of your old races. But I think she’s better than I ever was.” Max lightly shakes his head, but throws an arm around the man.
“You were great Daniel. It was the team that failed you.”
“She’ll be the one to break the curse.”
“Mark is somewhere tossing a coin in a well.”
And I ain't never feared nothing that was four legged and buckin'
Throw me on a hurricane and I'll ride it to the coast
Daniel watches from the pit wall as Isla speeds around the corner, her kart a neon blue flash. The orange and white of her helmet swivels a bit, eyes locked on the track in front of her.
“She drives like you,” Max comments, leaning against the barrier. Daniel snorts, shaking his head.
“That’s all you. I think she’s watched Val d’Argenton about 1000 times.” Max sighs and shakes his head, but the smile on his face betrays his real feelings.
“She’s going to be a menace,” Max remarks, watching Isla take a corner, sharp and breaking late. Daniel hums, tensing a bit when she wobbles coming out of the turn.
“She’s already a menace, not afraid of anything.” Daniel and Max look behind them to see Mark Webber approach. Daniel smiles at the older man, laughing a bit at the sarcasms in his voice.
“You too, you terrorized the grid just as much,” Max retorts, poking Daniel in the side. Mark laughs at the exaggerated reaction from Daniel, settling against the barrier to the man’s right. They observe the blue, orange, and white blur of Isla’s kart, commenting on her lines and breaking times.
“She’s going to be the one to make it,” Daniel finally says, quietly. His eyes are locked on his daughter, shoulders loose but fingers firmly clasped together.
Max nods, humming. Mark looks over to the two. Daniel is leaning forward, against the low wall, but his leg is pressed against Max’s. Max has one foot hooked around Daniel’s leg, his hands in his pockets.
“Where do you think she’ll go?” Max shrugs, but Daniel says nothing. There’s a fire in his eyes that’s familiar, reminds Mark of a day in 2017.
“She’ll jump right in, take the bull by the horns.”
2033 - Red Bull Ring, Hungary
Max keeps his eyes glued to the navy F2 car as it flies by. The car is powerful, pushing Isla along the track with such force it’s shocking. A monster, a wild beast that forces one to put everything into controlling it. Dallara had outdone themselves this year. The cars were like storms, thundering through the tracks.
Quite a few of the F2 drivers had struggled with the power, scared to push it too much. Isla had no such qualms, squeezing every second and centimeter out of it. She had grabbed that metaphorical bull by the horns and ridden it hard, demolishing nearly every track she had been on.
“Ricciardo has extended her lead by nearly 5 seconds within the past 5 laps, placing her a full 15 seconds ahead of second place! With three laps to go, we very well might be seeing a record breaking 5 race wins in a row for Isla Ricciardo!”
“She reminds me of someone, you know?” Max doesn’t look at Christian, doesn’t want to even acknowledge the man. “She really is a mini Daniel. Her breaking zones are nearly identical.”
“She learned from the best.” That’s Mark, who had been gracious enough to somewhat acknowledge the former team principal. Max snorts, but doesn’t comment.
“Well, Max did leave with 9 championships, so I can see that.”
“He was talking about Daniel,” Max finally remarks, eyes on the screen. Isla cuts through the chicane, barely tapping the break. She’s practically flying, holding steady in that monster of a car.
“Of course,” Christian agrees, but it’s not very enthusiastic. Max gives him a mental side eye, and continues to watch Isla dominate the track.
“With a record breaking 5 win streak, Isla Ricciardo wins the Hungarian F2 Grand Prix, leading with a 16 second gap!”
The Campos garage erupts in cheers. It was her 5th win of the season, 9th career F2 win, but they were still as excited for her as they were after her first win.
“Grab the bull by the horns indeed,” Mark murmurs, only loud enough for Max to hear. The younger lets a small smile slip, eyes crinkling as he sees Daniel’s face appear on the screen, eyes glassy and a smile so wide it looks like it hurts.
You'll never know that your son came to do what you should've done
On a summer day a long time ago, top a bull named To-hell-I-go
Isla sits in the small coffee shop, pressed into a booth in the corner, a hot chocolate steaming in front of her. Across from her is a simple coffee, one sugar and one cream. She remembered the order, remembered a lot of the team’s orders, from helping run drinks between meetings.
“Quite the place, Miss Isla.” She looks up, sees blue eyes that have hardly changed. A soft smile and wrinkles line his face.
“It’s my favorite. It’s good to see you again, Adrian.”
Adrian Newey sits down in front of her, taking a sip of the drink. He huffs out a soft laugh, seemingly surprised it was just how he liked it. It had been at least 10 years since Isla had been running alongside one of the interns and getting their drinks, but she did have an impeccable memory.
“I heard that you’re being considered for VCARB. How are you feeling?” Adrian looks her over. Isla is the spitting image of her father, the same brown eyes and regal nose, wild curls tumbling down her head.
“I feel good. But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Isla pulls a folder out of her bag and slides it to the man, voice low. Adrian takes it, pausing to see if there’s anything on the outside that could give him a clue as to the content of the folder. Nothing, so he opens it, and sucks in a sharp breath.
The Red Bull logo hasn’t changed since 2024, still that iconic red and yellow, navy bordering it.
“Isla…” Adrian starts, eyes snapping up to the girl. And for a second, he sees another Red Bull driver in her eyes, in her demeanor. Max Verstappen, fresh faced at 16 and 17, stares right back at him.
“I want to win,” she starts, fiddling with her bracelets. One is made of dark blue beads, a small metal star charm hanging from it. “I want to conquer the bull. I want to do what my dad wasn’t allowed to do, what Mark wasn’t able to do. And to do that, I need to take the bull by the horns. But you know the bull isn’t what it used to be.”
Isla slides him another paper. The format of a team contract is immediately recognizable. Adrian quietly goes over it, and Isla watches him.
“I left 5 years ago, Isla. I’m not what I used to be,” Adrian speaks softly, but his eyes are still on the paper in front of him.
“You are the best, Adrian. You created something nobody else has, and nobody has been able to come close to it. If I want to do this right, keep clear of the hooves and horns, I need you.”
Adrian looks up, finally, and sees such a fire in her eyes that it transports him back 20 years. To two men, boys really, clawing for a win, for something greater than they ever knew.
“Give me a bull worth riding, Adrian.”
So, open the gates, I'm here to prove
I'm better than my father was
And where he came from, too
Open the gates, I'm here to ride To-hell-I-go, with daddy by my side
The look on GianPiero’s face when Isla came into the meeting room with Adrian Newey following her was one that she would never forget. Christian’s face was just as amusing, though he looked like he had seen a ghost. With Christian’s retirement (see: forced step back) and current position as advisor, he was privy to some of the contract negotiations, and that’s why she had brought Adrian with Her. GP was a fair team principal, but Horner still held far too much power.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Isla greets them cheerfully, shaking some of the other people’s hands and the two aforementioned men rebooted their brains.
“Good evening Miss Ricciardo. Mr. Newey, I wasn’t aware you were part of her management team,” one of the women says, gesturing to their seats. Adrian pulls Isla’s seat out for her before sitting in his own.
“Oh, he’s not,” Isla responds, but doesn’t expand on it.
“If he’s not part of your management team, I’m not sure he should be privy to contract negotiations.” Horner finally spoke, having found his voice. His eyes were locked on the older man, who was as composed as ever. It was a flashback to 2021, when Max won his first championship, seeing him again.
“On the contrary, I have an excellent reason for him to be here. Adrian, if you will,” Isla looks at the older man. Her eyes are steady, holding a burning ember in them, ready to spark into a roaring fire at any second. Truly her father’s daughter, Adrian notes.
“It’s been a while since I left F1, not to mention Red Bull,” he begins, pulling out a folder and sliding in towards GP. “I created a masterpiece here, for Max. And another one, for Yuki in Aston Martin. However, my biggest regret was not being able to do the same for Daniel Ricciardo.” GP picks up the folder, opening it with bated breath. His eyes grow wide once he sees two things: A contract, and the beginnings of a blueprint.
“I want to correct that mistake, however I can.” Christian stares at the contract as well, before his eyes lock onto Isla. Daniel stares back at him, in 2018, in 2022.
“I know it’s customary for a new driver to start in a sister team, or a mid-field, but I have a proposal for you,” Isla starts, eyes locked onto GP. “Give me a seat at Red Bull, and I will bring back the greatest engineer and F1 car designer history has ever known.”
GP stares at her for a second, before looking back at the car blueprint. Finally, he sets it on the table and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes for a second.
“Isla Ricciardo, you are every bit your father’s child,” he remarks, sitting forward again. He had watched Isla grow up in the paddock, even after Daniel had left. She was glued to Max, or running around with Oscar, and even Jack at one point. She was a child of the circuits, sharp corners and no breaks, smart as whip and ready to tackle everything.
“It’s the only way I know how to be,” she smiles, and it’s Daniel’s smile.
“Let’s make history, Isla.”
Will I die out in Cheyenne with my baby there cryin'?
In a belly that's been growin' by the day
And I know that my son will do what his father should've done
A long, long time ago on a bull named To-hell-I-go
Singapore was as glittery as Daniel remembered. Isla’s helmet was no exception, a sparkling iridescent white and blue helmet, made to look like a set of constellations. On the back, a honey badger made out of twinkling stars.
“Isla Ricciardo rounds off our last free practice, finishing first in all three. She has been absolutely on fire this weekend!” Jenson was here this weekend, Nico by his side.
“With that monster of a car, it’s no surprise she’s doing so well. Bringing Adrian Newey out of retirement was quite a move, and back to Red Bull at that? Isla Ricciardo is something different.”
Daniel has to agree. His girl was something indescribable, a force of nature. She was the glimmering hope for the future and the warped mirror of the past, shattered glass sparkling like stars.
“You know, she’s had a personal vendetta against this track.” Daniel looks over to Caleb. He’s got a Red Bull themed hoodie, the name Ricciardo stretching across the back. Isla’s logo, a shooting star, and a number three, sit right over his heart.
“I know, which is funny, because she loves the helmets,” Daniel laughs. Caleb snorts, laughing a bit as well. “Where’s Cheyenne?”
“Isabella stole him, said she was going to find Ollie and introduce the two.” Of course Daniel’s niece has stolen her cousin’s cat and decided the first person to meet him would be Oliver Bearman. Max and Charles would be proud.
“What’s your prediction, for the race?” Caleb asks him, squinting at the glaring track lights. Daniel hums, watching the paddock pass by. It was so eerily similar, but so different now. Like looking in a well, your reflection is a bit distorted.
“Grand slam. She’ll get pole, and lead the entire time.” Caleb raises an eyebrow, a bit surprised.
“That’s a lot.” Daniel smiles, a little crooked.
“It’s what she’ll want. This is where everything changed.”
Caleb looks at him for a moment. Daniel’s hair has grey and white sprinkled through it, his curls a little less uniform now, shaggier with age. He has wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, some small ones around his mouth. His hands are rough, days on the farm and motorbikes shaping them. He stands a little less tall, less world shaking.
This version of Daniel Ricciardo wasn’t the F1 driver, the Honey Badger. This was Daniel Ricciardo, retired driver, father of Isla Ricciardo. This was Danny, the man from Perth with a knack for fixing motorbikes and a loud laugh.
“She did what she said she would. Grabbed the bull by the horns.”
So, open the gates, he's here to prove
He's better than his father was
And where he came from too
Open the gates he's here to ride To-hell-I-go's calf
Fireworks filled the sky as the first of the cars crossed the finish line. A blur of navy blue, white, yellow and red. Cheering from the Red Bull garage, the noise was enough to deafen everyone.
“Isla Ricciardo, for the 10th year in a row, you are the world champion!”
“**** yeah, that’s how you do it!”
“Isla Ricciardo has made history, ever since her introduction to F1. First female driver in nearly 50 years, brought Adrian Newey back from retirement, won the championship in the first year and became the first Australian driver to win the championship in 55 years. Breaking Max Verstappen’s 9 championships, she has been nothing short of a miracle, made for the track.”
“You’ve done it, sweetheart, you’ve done it again.”
“Did it for you, dad. All for you.”
Daniel watched his daughter grow over the past 35 years, from a baby babbling whenever she heard the sound of an engine, to a tike begging him for a kart, to a young teen racing around the F3 and F2 tracks, to getting into F1. Now, at 35, she was making history before their eyes.
Isla Ricciardo was an earth shaker. She was stardust and comets conformed into a girl with wild hair and a bright smile. She was all his hopes and dreams, past and present, shattered and realized, given life and a name. And Isla Ricciardo did what he never could, and did it with him by her side.
“Isla Ricciardo, 13 time Formula One world champion, current team principal of Red Bull Racing. Daughter of Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen. First female world champion. Those are some hefty titles.” Isla smiles at the interviewer. Isaac smiles back at her. He was ecstatic, to be interviewing his cousin for such a monumental moment. They’re sitting in her office in Milton Keynes, newly appointed.
“And mother to one Cheyenne Ricciardo-St. Luis,” she adds, hand settling on her stomach, rounded with a daughter.
“Of course, how could we forget? Your announcement made the internet explode,” Isaac laughs, remembering the calls he got after Isla made her statement at the end of the 2055 season.
“How are you feeling, coming into your first season as Red Bull’s team principal? There’s a lot of expectations, going forward.”
Isla nods, thinking quietly for a moment. She takes a deep breath, eyes drifting to a picture she had hung up on the wall. It was of her, her fathers, boyfriend, and family. Isla was 18, fresh faced in her rookie year.
“I feel ready. I’ve been in the sport since I was born. I watched empires rise and crumble, legacies made and fizzle out before they could even begin. I know what I need to do, what I should do.” Isaac nods, writing her answer down.
“What is your plan going forward? You have a rookie and an experienced driver in Matthew Stallworth and Luciel Dawes, both which have proven to be formidable on track. You and Luciel have had some legendary fights throughout your careers, like the 2052 season.”
“Yes, Luciel has been a wonderful opponent. She’s methodical and sharp, very observant. That’s why I wanted to sign her. And Matthew is just as good, though there’s room for him to grow. His potential is there, and we just need to make sure he has every resource for him to flourish.”
“How are you planning to approach the car? After the passing of the late Adrian Newey in 2054, may he rest in peace, the Red Bull has begun to look like it did in 2026 and 2027, less combative.”
Isla smiles, a little sadly. She missed Adrian, his presence something she had grown to love.
“Adrian has been dearly missed, not just in the technical and team aspects, but as a person. But, he’s left us with a gift. When he came back to Red Bull with me, he started taking someone under his wing. Solana Abrams has been instrumental in our growth as a team, and I am confident that we’ll be able to move forward and reclaim our position.”
“We’ve seen Miss Abrams’s skill quite a lot in Toro Rosso, with her giving them a wonderful car for the past 5 years, making them one of the top 5 teams. What is your approach going to be, for this transition? How are you going to claim that top spot back?”
Isla gives the camera a wide smile, slightly crooked, but bright. She looks like Daniel, like he did when he was racing, with a fire in his eyes.
“We’ll do what we always do.” Isaac smiles back, laughing a bit. He knows exactly what she means, had seen her do it his entire life.
“We’ll grab the bull by the horns, and open the gate.”
A/N. This was probably one of the most fun things to write ever. Thank you to comets for hyping me up, and to losargeant on TikTok for giving us the Oscar edit that inspired all of this. Zach Bryan songs and Daniel Ricciardo are forever intertwined for me.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy! Please check out my Masterlist for any of my other works!
