In Brazil. At the Interlagos circuit. In Formula 1. Amidst a sudden torrential downpour. Under the fanatic gaze of the fans in the Samba Kingdom... Senna has returned!
As the words tumbled from his mouth, Martin Brundle froze completely. His brain stopped working. He didn't even realize he had just dropped a massive bombshell over the live broadcast. In an instant, those words grabbed the hearts of millions of racing fans, drawing countless eyes to that streak of red light.
In the dense, impenetrable blue-gray rain mist, all other colors were swallowed and drowned. Only that single streak of red stubbornly and proudly cleaved through the chaos, breaking free. The wildly falling raindrops smashed viciously against Car 22, only to shatter instantly, the brilliant red slowly blooming and bleeding through the mist.
Brilliant, magnificent, breathtaking. You couldn't tear your eyes away.
The Senna S. Car 22 completely abandoned the traditional, conventional racing line. In the driving wind and rain, Kai didn't choose to be conservative. Instead, he widened his line, making grand, sweeping moves, fully utilizing the track width, practically skimming the kerbs as he flew past!
At this point, track grip was almost non-existent. The continuous downpour had flooded the circuit. Intermediate tires alone couldn't clear all the water. The distinction between the dry line and the wet line was meaningless. Yet, Kai kept adjusting, kept exploring, refusing to play it safe and by the book.
On one hand, he was trying to find gaps between the flowing streams of water. Where the water was slightly thinner, a tiny bit of grip still hid. A drop in the bucket, but better than nothing. A single spark can start a prairie fire.
On the other hand, he sought a more stable, less strenuous racing line. Substituting the throttle for the brakes. Micro-adjustments of the throttle, precise to the millimeter, maintained the rhythm. Inhaling, exhaling, perfectly timed. Relying on the steering to maintain dynamic balance and driving rhythm, dancing on the knife's edge, searching for a way to pass through quickly.
Swinging wide, hugging the apex of Turn 1. A light tap on the brakes. The steering wheel smoothly and fluidly guided the car through the corner with the smallest possible arc. But the steering didn't return to center quickly; he held it until the nose was close to the outside of the straight connecting the two corners. Without needing extra throttle or brake inputs, relying solely on the steering, the car moved like an extension of his own body. Amidst the turbulence and roar, it inconceivably maintained its agility, lightly and nimbly hugging the curve and passing through rapidly.
It felt like he had just passed Turn 1, the red afterimage still lingering at the entry, and before anyone could catch their breath, the iconic Ferrari red had already burst out of Turn 3. Fitting seamlessly into the cornering dynamic, requiring no extra corrections, he stabbed straight onto the back straight. The throttle was applied slowly and steadily. A massive, sweeping curtain of water opened up on the straight. Majestic and magnificent. In an instant, breaths were cut off.
"Sector 1, Purple!"
What? Purple?
Were they seeing things, or was the broadcast graphic glitching?
However, brains stopped functioning. At this moment, thinking was impossible.
All of Interlagos fell completely silent. Only the roar of the downpour continuously battered eardrums and exploded hearts. People even forgot their own existence. Millions of gazes, like a thousand blazing suns, fixed upon that unique Ferrari red. Intoxicated, spellbound. Unknowingly, they merged with the red streak of light, opening their arms and running wildly, unrestrained in the storm.
Under normal conditions, Ferrari had the advantage in Sector 1; the fastest sector times belonged to them. But entering Sector 2, Ferrari had no advantage whatsoever. Try as they might, they couldn't match Mercedes or Red Bull. They had to play to their strengths and mitigate their weaknesses.
But in a wet race, the situation is completely different. The performance gap between cars is compressed to the absolute minimum. The Big Three and Williams are on a level playing field. What's truly tested is the driver—skill, courage, boldness, execution.
And then, Sector 2, a cluster of continuous technical corners, completely transformed into Kai's stage. Only then did people realize that Ferrari could squeeze out such potential.
Flying through Turn 5, stabbing onto the straight, racing down the gentle slope. But he didn't pin the throttle; he controlled it slightly. Entering Turn 6, he even gently lifted off the throttle. Retreating to advance. He interpreted Turn 6 more gently, more lightly, hugging the outside line to trace the corner.
This is the lowest point of the track, where water accumulation is worse than anywhere else.
Here, Kai demonstrated the principle of "slow is fast" through actual driving. As the car entered the standing water, the tires were gently lifted by the water film (aquaplaning). But before that slip could escalate, the throttle under his foot steadied perfectly. A gentle push, the rear wheels regained grip, the steering followed. The car traced a smooth, flowing arc, slicing rapidly and cleanly through the continuous Turns 6 and 7.
Like spilled mercury.
People had seen Kai's ferocity—aggressive, methodical attacks, invincible and triumphant, even in Singapore. But today was the first time they witnessed Kai's other side. Gentle as water, mild as a breeze. His every move lacked any sharp edges or aggression, yet he squeezed out the track's limits in a completely different way.
Breaths caught in throats as Car 22 changed styles without warning. Extreme late braking, throwing the car sideways to slice through Turn 8. His decisive, ruthless approach through this acute corner was totally different from his earlier gentleness. The instantly erupted energy rolled like a storm hitting them head-on.
Tires slipping, rear wing swaying. The car gently rocked like a small boat floating on the water. It looked like it was about to lose control. The crowd gasped.
However, before the breath caught in their throats could be exhaled, the live broadcast showed Kai completing a series of continuous corrections at the critical moment. It looked frantic, like a headless fly operating wildly. In the next second, the car was supposed to completely lose control like a runaway wild horse. But unexpectedly, that flurry of inputs miraculously found the car's dynamic balance within the rapids, letting the inertia push it forward—
Almost no loss of exit speed. Throttle and steering coordinated, maintaining the push, continuing to fly!
The wild horse was so tame, so obedient in his hands, sprinting at full speed.
No one knew exactly how Kai managed such operations within the narrow window of a tenth of a second. But the reality before their eyes was undeniable: Kai controlled the situation. Not only that, he even turned a disadvantage into an advantage!
Gasps rushed from throats, immediately turning into cheers. They couldn't believe their eyes. Then, a fresh wave of shock crashed down on them.
At the Turn 10 hairpin, Car 22 repeated the trick. Sometimes violently passionate, sometimes gentle and delicate. Showing a thousand different faces at different parts of Interlagos. Dashingly and freely speeding away, leaving only astonishment in its wake.
"Sector 2, Purple!"
Shock! Impact! Stupefaction!
This storm even drowned out the downpour before them, howling across all of Interlagos. They had seen countless drivers continuously set fastest laps in races. But a driver breaking the car's own limits to set fastest laps in a torrential downpour...
Senna? Schumacher? And now... this madman before them!
This was truly... audacious.
Brundle's crazy hypothesis was confirmed. Kai was indeed pushing, just like Senna in his prime. Social media no longer had the time or energy to criticize Brundle for comparing Kai to Senna. Everyone was gasping, everyone was watching, witnessing Kai's relentless push.
Faced with this crazy performance, all of Kai's previous risks seemed justified. Hearts surged, blood boiled along with him. Even Kai's most hateful, bitter anti-fans were no exception, their hearts pounding as they watched this scene. They found it hard to tell whether they wanted Kai to set the fastest lap or not.
Splash, splash, splash... In a world where all other sounds had faded, the roar of the downpour grew clearer and more violent, drowning everyone inside and outside the television screen.
Limits, challenges. Every minute, every second was spent flying and dancing on a tightrope.
Fully immersed in the car. Every nerve seemed connected to every detail, every part of the machine. Feeling every tiny change as if the car were an extension of his own limbs. The machine was no longer just a machine; it became part of his body. Every nerve ending seemed to face the crisis of loosening and losing control at any moment. Yet, in this perilous, desperate situation, he inconceivably burst with energy, pulling tight on every rein. His focus had elevated to 120%, leaving not even a moment to breathe.
The car was constantly swaying, constantly turbulent. He had to grasp the faint, intermittent grip on a constantly moving, constantly changing track surface. The ongoing downpour dulled his five senses; even his sight and hearing could no longer be fully trusted. There was a discrepancy between intuitive perception and physical reality. The margin for error was compressed to the absolute limit. Even pushing just a tiny bit harder could lead to the danger of slipping and losing control. His nerves were completely taut—hanging by a thread!
Yet, Kai enjoyed it immensely. Every minute, every second was a pleasure. Enjoying this feeling of being stretched to the limit, enjoying this feeling of attention—
The feeling of being completely full, almost overflowing. Enjoying the feeling of challenging limits to the point of squeezing out the physical potential of his body.
Everything began to burn.
After Turn 11, the track curves left, a continuous left turn. The G-forces, wrapped in the downpour, smashed down on him. Kai didn't resist, nor did he evade. He opened his arms and embraced this storm.
Delicate and gentle throttle control, paired with a slight left steer to sketch the corner's limit. In the rushing water, he miraculously found a racing line. Kicking up a massive, waterfall-like curtain of water, he maintained a stable rhythm. The two streams of white lines wrapped around the red blur, piercing the final section of the track.
Speed! Sprinting all the way, flying all the way, chasing the ultimate speed, like chasing the sun at the end of endless darkness.
Vibrant, bright, smooth, dashing. In the heavy rain, using a stroke of red to sketch the ingenuity of Sector 3 at Interlagos. Braving the G-forces and the downpour to display the essence of this track to the fullest.
In a daze, it seemed they truly saw that fearless Son of Speed reappear at Interlagos. His wild, untamed, recklessly unrestrained posture made even the rainstorm bow before him, shivering.
The audience in the main grandstand involuntarily held their breath. Their hearts violently jumped into their throats. Excitement and agitation surged through their veins. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably. Millions of gazes were waiting for that flash of red—here it comes!
He was about to exit the corner, but at the last moment, the rear wing swayed gently in the turbulence.
Gasp!
Oh no!
The gasp was still swirling in their throats when they saw Car 22 didn't correct or adjust. Instead, going with the flow, it gently pushed in the direction the car was swaying. Relying on perfect throttle application, it pressed the rear wheels back onto the ground and flew out. Only after entering the straight did it make the correction, ensuring exit speed and continuing the sprint. A moment of chaos was instantly transformed into forward momentum.
"Sector 3, Green!"
Jumping out of seats! Absolutely stunning!
All of Interlagos went completely crazy. They even forgot words, just selflessly praising, cheering, jumping, singing and dancing, partying wildly in the pouring rain! Feeling the speed with their hearts, igniting passion with their bodies! Standing in the storm, using humanity's insignificant strength to confront nature.
"Who could have imagined!"
"Kai Zhizhou! Interlagos once again witnesses Kai's stunning talent!"
"While other cars unanimously chose to be conservative, steady, and cautious, Kai turned the crisis into his stage, continuing his adventurous journey!"
"Kai is setting the fastest lap! Kai is launching an attack on the leading pack!"
"A stunning lap! Unparalleled! Blood-boiling! Almost setting the entire Interlagos on fire!"
In the commentary box, Croft roared himself hoarse, trying to compete with the storm, confronting the downpour with his own voice, standing at the center of the world to ignite passion.
That Number 22 car was making the rainstorm before their eyes pale in comparison. Single-handedly stealing all the focus, the roar of the engines and the rushing water seemed reduced to supporting roles.
However, Croft soon realized this was just the beginning.
One lap. Another lap.
Actually—
Croft turned to look at Brundle, his face full of shock. He squeezed a sound out of his throat, "Martin?"
Brundle nodded. "Yes, your eyes aren't deceiving you. Kai is continuously setting fastest laps. He is using actual actions to overturn Mercedes' plan, forcing Toto Wolff to make a choice as soon as possible."
In short: an overcut!
Kai was sprinting, running free and wild.
Following Monaco, he once again entered a state of complete self-forgetfulness. The world fell entirely silent. Everyone else seemed to have left. Like an afternoon when his parents went to work, and he was left home alone, sneaking out to play in the rain, splash in puddles, party wildly, acting recklessly without a care in the world.
Everything faded away, leaving only himself.
Car, track. In a chaotic, hazy state, searching for that faint, almost non-existent limit. Brazenly crossing the boundary time and time again to explore the unknown. The continuously bursting adrenaline made his brain clearer and more excited. Temporarily forgetting himself, temporarily forgetting the race, chasing the ultimate speed.
Joy and happiness surged in his chest!
Then, another fastest lap. And another.
Kai had completely gone mad!
Furthermore, a chain reaction appeared. Verstappen must have been the first driver to feel the pressure. The afterimage in his rearview mirrors and the warnings from the pit wall echoed each other, sounding the alarm. If Kai wanted to get on the podium, the first opponent he had to face was Verstappen.
And so.
Verstappen also started setting fast laps. Without a moment's hesitation.
Two young, vigorous, passionate teenage geniuses. Newborn calves unafraid of tigers. One bolder than the other, one braver than the other. They actually, fearlessly, started setting fast laps together in the rain. Yet, neither Arrivabene nor Horner stopped them. And then things started to get absurd.
Two madmen!
Now, Wolff was full of question marks.
Horner, the opportunist with a gambler's blood running through his veins—fine, whatever. But what was up with Arrivabene?
Wolff didn't have time to investigate this right now, because the predicament was a clear, undeniable fact staring him in the face. He instantly saw through the trick.
Kai had been setting fast laps, adopting an overcut posture. This meant Hamilton was caught in a dilemma, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Every second reminded the Mercedes pit wall:
Not making a choice is also a choice.
Right now, Hamilton, on Super Softs, was completely trapped. He couldn't push. To be precise, he was barely struggling to survive in the heavy rain. Survival was the top priority; everything else had to step aside. As Kai continued to set fast laps, all the pressure piled onto Hamilton.
Simply put, the longer Hamilton stayed on track, the bigger the gap would be between him and Kai after he pitted.
By then, even if Hamilton chose the right tires, making up the gap and turning the tide in the remaining race time would become increasingly difficult.
From every angle, for Hamilton—with no tires, no grip, no rhythm—pitting as soon as possible was the right choice. Kai's fast laps were like a dagger pressed against Wolff's side, forcing them to make a quick decision. Otherwise, Kai would make the choice for them.
Kai was forcing Wolff to gamble.
Wolff: ...Ah! AHHHHHHHHH!
He understood the logic. Hamilton should pit, Bottas should pit too. They needed to show decisiveness.
But understanding the logic was one thing. This young, arrogant upstart using actual actions to threaten him into making a decision was another.
How dare he!
First overtaking Leclerc, and now setting fast laps in the rain. Step by step, the threat from Kai was pressing hard against Wolff's back.
He tried his hardest to maintain a facade of calm, but the volcano deep inside finally erupted.
It wasn't that he wasn't decisive enough, but that with Mercedes holding the initiative firmly in their hands, there was no need to take risks, let alone gamble.
He just wanted to wait a little longer, to see how the weather developed, to see which way the rain was going.
Who knows, maybe the Safety Car would be deployed?
Speaking of which, Hulkenberg, who hadn't made a mistake in a hundred years, spun off in the drizzle, bringing out the Safety Car. Yet now, with a torrential downpour flooding the track, all the cars were incredibly safe, with no accidents whatsoever. Is this normal? Is this reasonable?
Continuous rain, continuous chaos. Almost everyone said God was on Mercedes' side, that Interlagos had pre-ordained the season's championship outcome, that Senna's spirit had anointed Hamilton to continue his championship legacy. Timing, geographical advantage, human harmony—everything was contributing to Mercedes' glory.
Yet now, Wolff couldn't help but doubt it. Was it really like that?
If all the advantages truly favored Mercedes, it shouldn't be raining and disrupting the rhythm. Even if it rained, it shouldn't be like this—sunshine one moment, rain the next, changing unpredictably, utterly elusive. It was simply a nightmare, adding variables to the race. For Mercedes in the lead, this situation couldn't be worse. Hamilton and Bottas's lead was almost wiped out.
To hell with the timing! To hell with the geographical advantage! Fuck!
Now, seeing the race slipping out of control, Mercedes really had to make a decision.
His insides were churning, but his exterior remained unruffled. Wolff knew that at a moment like this, the entire paddock was watching his reaction closely.
Only if he stayed calm could Mercedes steady their morale.
So, Intermediates, or full Wets?
"God!"
"Unbelievable! Kai Zhizhou!"
"Fastest lap, broken for the fourth consecutive lap! And he's entered a whole new level!"
"1:22.771!"
"In today's race, this is the first time a driver has broken the 1 minute 23 second barrier! Make no mistake, heavy rain is still pounding the track. The downpour hasn't eased at all!"
"And right now, the lap time closest to Kai comes from Verstappen, but he's also 0.551 seconds slower!"
"Wow!"
Shockwave after shockwave, totally unstoppable!
This season, Kai emerged from nowhere, overturning all rules with an unreasonable posture, even aggressively making Hamilton look flustered. His stunning performances completely upended Verstappen's status as the teenage genius.
Actually, on-track performance had already determined the winner. Whether it was Drivers' points or Grand Prix victories, looking at average performance in qualifying and races, Kai was indeed stronger than Verstappen. It was exactly because of Kai's stimulus that Verstappen, famous from a young age, completed his transformation after Monaco.
"Kai vs. Verstappen"—who is stronger, who is weaker? Discussions raged.
However, on-track performance must be discussed in the context of car performance. Otherwise, spouting nonsense while ignoring the performance gap between cars is just being a hooligan. This season, Ferrari's overall performance was indeed stronger than Red Bull's. This led some fans to believe that Verstappen's absolute talent was superior to Kai's. As long as Red Bull's performance kept up, Verstappen and Kai should be equally matched, perhaps with Verstappen even slightly suppressing Kai.
These debates had always been heated; neither side could convince the other.
Until now.
In rainy conditions, where car performance differences are negligible, the gap becomes apparent.
Although Verstappen had matured a lot this season, he still often relied on intuition and instinct to drive. His impulsive, irritable temper hadn't been curbed. His handling of some details was slightly rough. What held him back wasn't just car performance, but his own terrible temper that he couldn't control.
In contrast, Kai's racing temperament was on another level. Perhaps there was still room for growth technically, but in terms of judgment, decision-making, and handling in crisis situations and difficult scenarios, he displayed true superstar flair. It wasn't just about a 0.5-second lead in a single lap.
What happens next year or the year after is unknown. But for this season, Kai is undoubtedly the better driver.
It's precisely because of this that Kai was able to beat Vettel within Ferrari, and go a step further to threaten Mercedes' championship throne.
Right now is a perfect example.
It wasn't just the commentary box; the Mercedes pit wall also felt the threat of the relentless pursuit from behind, gripping their throats tightly.
"...Bono, what are Kai's lap times?" Hamilton couldn't see the broadcast; he didn't know what was happening behind him. But he had to be wary of Kai. As the only rival currently capable of threatening him in the Drivers' Championship, this title fight had reached its final moments.
Over the radio, Bono rarely paused. "Lewis, don't ask."
Hamilton understood immediately. "Is the gap that big?"
Bono glanced at the monitor. On that last lap, Hamilton was over two seconds slower than Kai. They weren't even competing on the same level. "Lewis, do you think we should pit?"
Mercedes was handing the decision to Hamilton, trusting the judgment of the four-time World Champion. Sitting on the pit wall and in the garage, they couldn't truly feel the track conditions. Whether to pit, and when to pit, they needed to hear firsthand from the driver.
"Yes. I believe so," Hamilton said. "Visibility is terrible. I have absolutely zero grip. If you told me my lap times were two or three seconds slower, I wouldn't be surprised."
As expected, precise judgment.
Bono: "Intermediates or full Wets?"
Hamilton trusted his instinct. "Full Wets. The track is too bad right now. Even if we change to Intermediates, it will basically be the same when we come out."
"Copy," Bono responded—
The Mercedes pit crew immediately sprang into action. This was no smokescreen. On Lap 38, the defending champion was finally preparing to pit.
Pierre noticed the activity immediately. "Kai, Mercedes is preparing to pit. Red Bull is preparing to pit."
The corners of Kai's mouth curled up slightly, revealing a smile. "Earlier than I expected. I thought they'd have the guts to hold out for two more laps."
Pierre caught the implication in Kai's words and immediately reacted. "What, do you think the rain will stop?"
"Whether it will stop, I'm not sure. But the wind is starting to die down, and the sky over the distant mountains is showing a teal color. This cumulonimbus cloud should pass soon, so the rain should ease up. If Mercedes held out for two more laps, the situation would be different." Kai gave his observation.
Because of this, Kai took the risk of setting fast laps over the past few laps. Even in the pouring rain, amidst the chaos and noise, he tried to create interference. He used his actual actions to disrupt the judgment of the Mercedes pit wall—a feint to the east, attacking in the west.
Kai risked his own safety to divert Mercedes' attention and overturn the situation. The Mercedes pit wall must have been constantly analyzing data. The weather forecast data was all on their computers, but the actual situation on the track might be slightly different. He tried to keep the Mercedes pit wall focused on data, ignoring the reality on the track.
Pressure was the key.
Mercedes and Red Bull had always tried to use pressure to disrupt Kai. Now, during the race, Kai was giving them a taste of their own medicine, letting them feel what it was like to have layers of pressure crashing down on them.
Under pressure, humans make mistakes. No one is exempt.
Mercedes' strength was undeniable. The combination of Wolff and Hamilton was the ultimate boss that the entire paddock was currently trying to defeat. From strategy to skill, to the calmness and wisdom of adaptability, paired with the only "rocket ship" in the paddock, they were virtually invincible.
But even so, they were still ordinary people, just flesh and blood.
It wasn't just track pressure; there was championship standings pressure, the pressure of the title, weather pressure. This Brazilian Grand Prix wasn't an ordinary race. There were far too many bets and chips on the table. Under layers of pressure, humans make mistakes.
If their will was firm, their nerves strong, and they refused to make mistakes... then Kai would slowly build up pressure on the track, making them truly feel threatened, disrupting Wolff and Hamilton's plans. As long as a situation arose, things could be overturned.
Even if it wasn't a visible mistake, an error in judgment, a moment of carelessness, a hesitation—any of these could become an opportunity to turn the tide.
Thank you, Verstappen!
If Kai was the only one setting fast laps, like an ant trying to shake a tree, the impact would ultimately be insufficient. But adding Verstappen, the two blockheads chasing the leading pack's three Super Softs together, raising the single-lap rhythm—the entire atmosphere was completely different. The threat evolved into a substantial impact.
In reality, as Verstappen had said, he was playing the spoiler. So, whoever could fully utilize this role could gain the upper hand.
Opportunities don't come by sitting quietly and waiting; they are created by taking the initiative.
And so, it happened. Lap 38. Hamilton, Bottas, and Ricciardo pitted simultaneously.
Verstappen officially led the 2018 Brazilian Grand Prix!
But the truly unbelievable part was that Kai had quietly moved up to second place! Leclerc followed closely, firmly holding third.
"Turns out, Toto is just an ordinary guy too."
Kai's voice came over the radio. On track, the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating, but this young man was setting fast laps and making jokes at the same time.
That effortless demeanor relaxed the entire Ferrari pit wall. They high-fived, hugged, and even found time for a quick joke.
Pierre had an illusion that they were back at ART Grand Prix. Kai possessed this unique ability to tightly unite a team.
The corners of Pierre's mouth rose involuntarily. He glanced back at the Mercedes pit box. "Full Wets." Just as expected.
Kai didn't cheer, but let out a heavy breath. "Now comes the time to predict the weather. Let's see who the real prophet is. It's a pity I can't see Toto's expression with my own eyes."
Pierre kindly reminded him, "There are always replays."
When Hamilton exited the pits, he fell behind Leclerc. At this moment, the broadcast suddenly realized that the leading group of the Brazilian Grand Prix consisted of the three most outstanding young drivers of the season. Two of them were rookies, and the three had teamed up to suppress the defending champion!
A memorable scene—
Croft spoke subconsciously, without thinking, "Does this foreshadow the dawn of a new era?"
But honestly, Croft didn't think deeply about it.
Setting aside what the future held for Verstappen and Leclerc, whether Kai could create a miracle this season, or if this season was just a fleeting, shooting-star moment like Raikkonen's... it was all unknown. Hamilton and Mercedes were still at their peak. Anyone wanting to overthrow their reign wouldn't find it easy.
Even the outcome of this very race was still unknown.
Turning around, Croft continued his commentary. A thought was just a thought. Even Croft himself didn't realize that a single sentence planted a seed that would eventually grow into a towering tree, a vast forest.
Following Hamilton were Bottas, Ricciardo, Grosjean, Magnussen, Perez, and Hartley, occupying the points positions.
The continuous weather situations had not only upended the leading pack but also completely reshuffled the midfield and backmarker battles. The race was full of variables.
At this moment, Hamilton, who had previously been far ahead in a league of his own, found himself less than four seconds behind Leclerc after experiencing heavy rain and pit stops. And the gap between Leclerc and Kai was greater than six seconds. This meant they were completely trailing the leaders, Verstappen and Kai.
In other words, it all depended on the rain and tires now. Relying solely on courage and skill probably couldn't determine the outcome of this Grand Prix—
It didn't take long for the Mercedes pit wall to notice the latest change.
The rain had eased.
Like turning off a faucet, the torrential downpour instantly turned into light rain. The gray sky revealed a clean, smoky blue. The faintly visible clouds looked like smoke and mist. Gone was the ferocious, menacing look; instead, there was a refreshing, comfortable feel of a summer afternoon.
Wolff: ...
No!
Wolff rarely lost control, but he slammed both hands heavily onto the table.
No! No! No!
He repeated the word over and over, temporarily losing his ability to speak, just venting his frustration and dismay. But it was only for a moment. Wolff's emotions leaked out for a second before he pulled back the reins tightly, sinking into silence. That motionless silence was chilling. The entire Mercedes garage was dead quiet; no one even dared move a finger.
If they had waited just a bit longer, just been patient a little while, things would be completely different. They wouldn't have needed to bet everything on full Wets; Intermediates would have been enough.
But Wolff couldn't blame Hamilton for a misjudgment. They had gathered all sorts of weather forecast information and still failed to predict the situation accurately. Interlagos, like Silverstone, was unpredictable, elusive. If he heard someone say God was standing behind Mercedes one more time, he swore he would explode on the spot.
However, Wolff immediately realized that the test of Interlagos wasn't over yet—
With the rain easing, next came the battle on the track. The drivers could gradually find their rhythm. It was no longer just a battle between Verstappen and Kai.
Lap 41, Raikkonen spun out. Safety Car deployed.
Wolff felt completely hopeless. The Safety Car couldn't come out earlier or later; it had to come out just when the rain eased. If it had been a few laps earlier, even if the rain hadn't let up, they could have gambled on full Wets and pitted with less time lost. They might have even stayed ahead of Verstappen. The rest of the race would have been entirely different.
Instead...
Amidst wave after wave of blows, the only thing worth celebrating was that because of the Safety Car, the gaps between cars were wiped out. This meant Hamilton wouldn't have to work hard to chase down Leclerc. He could launch an attack as soon as the Safety Car pulled in.
Unfortunately, even this "silver lining" didn't last long.
Lap 44. The Safety Car was preparing to pit. The race was about to resume. But Alonso's McLaren pulled off the track and slowly came to a halt.
Power unit failure!
The unlucky Alonso had to retire.
Well, the Safety Car wasn't leaving either. It continued to lead the race, patiently waiting for the crane to remove the car, avoiding dangerous situations on a slippery track.
The Safety Car coming out was a good thing; but the Safety Car staying out was a bad thing.
Because the standing water on the track was disappearing. Although the track was completely soaked and wouldn't dry out in the short term, the racing line was gradually emerging.
For Intermediates, this weather was perfect. But for full Wets, the advantage was gone. The single-lap pace couldn't keep up, and they were more prone to wear.
Furthermore, the Safety Car leading the race was a positive signal for Verstappen, Kai, and Leclerc's tires, protecting them. At the same time, it compressed the space for Hamilton to launch an attack. The remaining laps were dwindling, and his opportunities for a counter-attack were slipping away.
In other words, the longer the Safety Car stayed out, the weaker Mercedes' control over the race became.
Perhaps, at this moment, the only thing that wasn't terrible was that the light rain was still falling continuously, keeping the track wet with standing water.
If the sun were to peek out right now, it would truly be a death sentence for Mercedes.
Lap 49, the Safety Car finally pitted. The race restarted!