#spa 2023

[fourlando]

happy belgian gp week

[landinrris]

Unseen disposable shots from Spa 2023 || Williams Racing on Threads

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Choose your fighter

[il-predestinato]

HELP! 🥺 Charles struggling to reach his water bottle with his tiny T-Rex arms... 🍼🦖

Charles Leclerc | Sprint Race | 2023 Belgian Grand Prix 🎥: F1TV

[leclercskiesahead]

“Eyy, what are you doing here?”

Carlos guarding the Ferrari secrets

[onboardsorasora]

I went looking for video of Christian and Helmut wishing Daniel luck before the sprint and instead I found that during the delay he suggested they go take ice cream😂

[somejazzinthemorning]

spa'23

his eyes are tinged with pain and a hint of regret. you don’t get it. it was not totally his fault and you can’t stand the way people lash out at him on social media, screaming in caps lock, blaming him for the chaos he ensued on himself. it could have happened to anyone out there. an unpredictable twist of fate. it fell upon carlos, and he did whatever he could to salvage something from it.

with measured steps, he walks from the car to the corner of the garage. ruper clutches his water bottle while caco stands there, his lips pressed together in a straight line that barely conceals a sympathetic smile. perched on a box inside the garage, you mirror their expressions, a silent show of solidarity in the face of heartache. it’s a chain reaction, the pain echoing through the team, drawing forth those melancholic smiles.

but all you can do is focus on his eyes, those once-glistening obs now shrouded in sorrow; they seem to swallow the light around them.

you just want to close the space between you two and hug him. kiss his temple. tell him how well he did, despite everything. offer some words of comfort, burry yourself into his arms, because you know that brings him as much comfort as it brings to you. but you can’t.

all you can do is stand there, a witness to his struggle, a participant in his unspoken anguish.

work doesn’t halt with the retirement of the car; no, it is just the beginning of a different kind of toil. and god, how you wished it did, just to give him the solace he so desperately needs and spare him from the emotional turmoil he must endure.

he dons his headphones and turns himself to the screens. his lips barely part, his words lost in the vast expansion of his internal labyrinth. even caco and rupert receive little more than a nod from him. he acknowledges the fist bumps, quick hugs, and handshakes from his team, but silence is deafening.

even on the radio during the race, his voice was painfully muted. you wonder what goes through his mind when his lips are so silent.

you know, deep down in your heart, that he gave it his all. through sweat and adrenaline, he pushed himself beyond his limits, and the limits of the car. that's the only thing you're certain about amidst this chaos of uncertainty. but now, as the dust settles, he stands there, a warrior in defeat, silently battling the demons within.

every fiber of his being, every ounce of determination was poured into the race, leaving nothing but a hollow shell.

it's that unwavering commitment that shines through, despite the darkness that engulfs him now.

as he strides away, bound for the media pen, he glances back at you. his hand stretches out just a fraction, fingers beckoning you towards him. ignoring the guests and friends around, you wiggle your way through the crown, almost stumbling in your eagerness to reach him.

finally, your small hands find his.

his grip warm, firm.

like he desperately needs to find a port and find shelter.

the hair is heavy, and you catch the faintest sigh escaping his lips the instant your hands intertwine.

“i’m so sorry”, you whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the din surrounding you. the words tumble out, the only response you can muster at the moment. “it could have happened to anyone.”

you want to console him, alleviate the burden he carries. the pain of failed expectations. his and the thousands of others, wearing the same color around the track and across the whole world.

but his response is resolute and unyielding, the words cutting through the air like shards of glass.

“it didn’t just happen. i made it happen.”

so much remorse and self-blame in his words.

his eyes search your face, and you’re not sure what he’s expecting to find. you just want to comfort him, to remind him nobody is perfect, that even the greatest fall sometimes. but words escape you, and you find yourself standing there, clutching his hand tightly, remembering him you’re there.

with a tender touch, you raise your hand to his face, fingers caressing his cheek in a gentle dance. the glimmering constellation of your digits leaves a trail of comfort in its wake, and he instinctively leans into the warmth of your touch. his eyes flutter shut as your thumb grazes his skin, as if seeking solace and reassurance in this fleeting moment of tranquility.

on your tiptoes, you draw even closer. your lips, feather-light, meet his other cheek in a sweet caress.

"whatever happened, your fault or not, we'll overcome it. i'm here, and i’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the one after that. i'll be here the next time you race, whether you fail or stand tall on that podium. that's the only thing i'm certain about. we'll try again.”

this race broke me, so i wrote this in a rush to try to conceal the pain. ["conceal", she said.] i didn't had time to review, so sorry if it's messy and/or with typos. we suffer together, 55nation.

[blorbocedes]

Horner: "That's a great, great lap that puts you on the front row for Sunday's race, great job."

Checo: "And you will talk to me now, great job."

Horner: "I will talk to you. I said you're top five mate."

fascinated by the implication that christian horner will only acknowledge checo if he's top 5(?).... 👀 the conditional performance based praise of your team principal... what goes on at redbull indeed