Do you belive in forever? (Max Verstappen)

Chapter 3

Nervously, I sat on the chair with a piece of paper and waited for the first racer. I went through all the questions again in order to internalize them. When I heard the door, I looked up and immediately got up from the chair. The new Ferrari driver had joined with his press agent. I smiled at him and hold my hand to him for shaking his hand. He answered this and then sat down on his chair, which was beautifully lit. I, on the other hand, sat next to the camera in the dark.

"In English, French or Italian?" languages were my absolute strength. In addition to the above-mentioned languages and German I also spoke some Swedish and Finnish. My mother had always thought that I could be put in any tribe in Africa and after at least one month I would probably speak the language fluently. A lot of it had to do with a safe appearance. Even if you hardly speak a language, you should use it with a broad chest and a lot of self-confidence, so that no one realizes that you could hardly speak the language.

The Monegasque was surprised that he could choose a language: "French would be my favorite." He had said this a little shyly, which I simply ignored. Instead, I looked briefly at my camera and audio engineer, when they both gave me the OK, I turned back to the young racer.

"You are about to start your first season with Ferrari, how nervous are you and how much do you look forward to the coming year?" I didn't see on my note. Actually, I wouldn't have needed it, because I liked the questions spontaneously and therefore a little more natural. So, I was able to respond better to the answers of Charles Leclerc, which in turn relaxed the mood.

I had listened attentively to the racer and was almost a little shocked when the 20 minutes were over. They felt like a maximum of 5, and I could have talked to the Monacan for a long time. But the next racer was waiting for me and for him the next reporter.

I got up again to say goodbye and had given my hand. I thanked him before he followed his press officer. I immediately took the next question sheet in my hands so that I could prepare for the next driver. He had just been wired and came towards me grinning. As with Charles, I had stood up and shaked the young Englishman's hand.

"Your first season in Formula One is in the starting blocks, what goals have you set yourself?" Lando seemed to think briefly. But then gave very diplomatic and modest answers. From time to time, one of us made a joke, so the atmosphere in the room was very cheerful. The Briton was definitely more talkative than the Monacan, but both had always answered in great detail. So, the two riders belonged to the category of my favorites. Not only did celebrities and athletes have reporters who liked them, but we journalists also liked people who had something to tell.

According to Lando, Carlos and George had also been with me. Now, however, probably the big challenge ahead of me, because the Dutchman was my next guest. I knew from Sandra that he wasn't talkative, which would probably mean a long 20 minutes to me. All sorts of scenarios were already playing out in my head, and they didn't work out so well for me. In order to dispel these thoughts, I turned back to my question sheet for him, this time I would probably need it. I had been able to work with the others with their answers, but if Max Verstappen only gave short answers, I couldn't really use them to build a conversation.

When I noticed unknown voices, I looked up from the paper. My eyes fell on the racer, who was just wired by our sound man. Next to the driver was an older man who looked similar to the driver, this must have been his father. I swiped my shirt again and got up. It's as if I had to face the two proofs, not the last, because my father looked at me sceptical. He probably didn't trust me to do a serious and to do a good job. As is so often the case, he probably reduced me to my gender and age, but he would have to know through his son that talent had nothing to do with age.

When Max looked up and saw me, he remained petrified, which made me nervous. I couldn't interpret his gaze and the staring that made me swallow. Unconsciously, I stretched my chest a little further out so as not to let my insecurity be noticed.

Since the racer wasn't really moving, I bridged the distance and held his hand: "Hanna Gasser, I'm happy to meet you. If you want, we could start with the interview, which language do you prefer English or German?" With this I had probably freed the racer from his rigidity, because he shook his head slightly. He still didn't quite take my hand and just broke out German. When our hands touched, it felt like I had received an electronic shock. So, I quickly removed my hand from him.

While the racer was sitting on the chair, I had also sat with his father. After that I had sat down again in my seat and looked at the Dutchman, who had probably watched me. An uncertain smile had settled on his lips, which in turn unsettled me a little. My hands had started sweating abnormally firmly and that was not because of the unbearable warmth in the room. Feeling the air had become another 10 degrees warmer since I had given the Dutchman the hand.

I tried to ignore the looks of Jos Verstappen as best I could, because they always made me feel uncomfortable. So, I focused on his son and to my astonishment, he didn't give such short answers. Either he was in a good mood or Sandra had probably exaggerated her story a bit.

In fact, I had managed to hide everything around me and only perceive Max. It was as if we had both been alone in the room, and I was trapped in a spell that I couldn't take my eyes off him. It was a miracle that I could still ask my questions, because I hadn't even really noticed this myself. At the end of the interview, I honestly had no idea what I had asked Max.

I politely serenely gave the Dutchman the hand and again I felt these electric shocks, this time I ignored them. The laughter on the racer's lip had become even wider, and he too thanked me before he had the Cable removed. I had briefly looked at him, but then turned to the next question sheet. But even after the first question, I was prevented from doing so.

"I have to admit, I underestimated you. I want to apologize for that, you are a boon to all the reporters," Mr. Verstappen said in a surprise. He had stepped next to me and had probably also taken a look at the paper in my hand.

I looked at him a little confused: "You don't have to apologize; you didn't say anything." Of course, I thought it was nice that he just wanted to apologize for his thoughts, no one had done this before.

"I kept you as a little fashion doll that only has a clue about clothes and the thought alone was unfair. I hope we can see you more often here and on other race weekends", even if it wasn't really a question, it felt like one.

Because of the indirect compliment, my cheek became even redder when the heat had already: "Actually, I am responsible for ice hockey and only bridge until they find a new commentator."

"Then let's hope they'll never find one," Jos Verstappen turned away from me. His son waited at the door and looked at his father inquiringly before he took a look at me. I answered them until my cameraman approached me, and I was forced to look away.

"Do you want to drink something, I'll go down quickly for Udo and get water," I quickly nodded and thanked me. Udo had already opened a window to let fresh air into the room as long as we weren't on board. I let my gaze slide back to the door, but there was no trace of the Dutchman. Shortly I had to sort my thoughts, because I was a bit dispersed.

I focused on reading the words on the sheet and forgetting the previous interview. Only I managed this only partially, because I read the questions but could not remember any of them. So, I had to hope that Alexander Albon would give me enough material in the conversation.

Leo had quickly given me a water bottle before he got into trouble with the camera so that it was ready for use. The driver of Toro Rosso was already wired and was still talking to his press agent. In advance, we had received a list of taboo topics for each driver, which were also on my question sheet. What struck me with this driver was that his mother was standing on it. 

Not that I wanted to ask him about his mother or other private things, but I thought it was a bit weird. For me, as a sports journalist, the private lives of the drivers were not important, and so I would not ask for it, not in normal cases as it is today. I think sport and performance should be in the focus, so I couldn't understand it when you asked the drivers about their mother or girlfriend.

Either Alexander was so nervous during the interview that he barely broke anything out, or he definitely belonged in my hate category. My categories had nothing to do with the driver's person, but I only divided into the way I got answers. The Asian Briton gave only the most necessary of himself, which really made my job difficult. Those 20 minutes with him were the longest until later Lance Stroll came, but I wasn't there yet.

Exhausted, I exhaled loudly when Alexander was out of the room: "This boy is not exactly talking." A slight laugh rang out from the two men and I nodded to them exhausted. But immediately a big sip of my water. With the next leaf I tried to wag a little cooler air.

"Should I help her Royal Highness," Leo joked, taking a cardboard box. Grateful for the slight cooling, I laughed happily. I hadn't noticed that the eldest of my interviewing squad had entered. He had watched us amused while Udo attached the microphone to him. Sergio's press agent, however, was rather skeptical about what we were doing, as if this were making us worse reporters. The Mexican, on the other hand, didn't bother, so he went to the chair without complaining.

Leo stopped, and I quickly greeted Sergio Perez before I started the interview. Some time I had this behind me and also Daniil, Antonio and Pierre I had done it more or less quickly. Although Pierre wasn't talkative, Antonio was so happy that I could also speak Italian, that he answered in detail.

"Last interview for today and then there's finally dinner," Leo said. He was in his early 30s, but Udo was almost 50. But age didn't matter to us when we were working, the three of us understood each other very well, which made the work much easier.

In a good mood and full of anticipation for the evening, I was just waiting for Lance Stroll to be ready. Of course, there was more sympathy for certain people than with others, and maybe I was biased, but I didn't really feel right in the interview. So, I asked my questions and tried not to fall asleep because Lance looked like a little, shy boy on me. His eyes kept slipping to the side, so I once followed his gaze and saw his father. Suddenly, his demeanor had gotten a completely different aspect for me. But I stayed still and tried the 20 minutes to get around.

When the alarm went off and announced the end, I thanked God for it. Outwardly, however, I did not let anything be noticed, I thanked them and waited until the two Mr. Stroll had disappeared.

"I thought Pierre and Alexander would have been exhausting," Leo said. Udo and I could only laugh in agreement. I was glad that it wasn't just me who felt this dynamic and that the others saw it the same way as I did. But now I was happy to have a day off, so that for the first time today I got something right in my stomach.

A blond head appeared after a knock in the door: "Do you come with us to the Restaurant around the corner. The six of us are the only ones still from our entire team who are here." Shortly we exchanged three glances and then nodded to Sandra. So, we set out with her and her team to become Italian around the corner.

Happy new Year! Bonne Année! Feliz Ano Nuevo! Buon Anno! Boldog új évet kívánok! Fröhliches neues Jahr!

Xxx-Fabi