Chapter 24
AFRAID TO FAIL
Silverstone’s response had been expensive and highly public: stricter limits on test-day noise, expanded sound mitigation around nearby villages, and a major push toward sustainability under its “Shift to Zero” program.
“Racing will never be environmentally neutral,” Davis admitted. “Twenty cars burning fuel for two hours, plus all the transport and infrastructure. But we can make the facility itself sustainable.”
The hired car and driver returned me to the apartment in London Apex had hired for me, where the story practically wrote itself.
Local tension mixed with technological solutions, and the broader question of whether motorsport could justify its environmental impact in an era of climate consciousness.
I wrote 800 words focusing on the balance between preserving a historic racing venue and addressing legitimate environmental concerns.
Then I turned to prep for my interview with Lando Norris.
If I had the time to reflect and polish, something I didn’t have under the pressure of race deadlines, I’d take advantage of it.
Wednesday Morning - Lando Norris Interview
The driver took me to the team’s headquarters in Woking, where I met Norris, looking relaxed in team casual wear and carrying a reusable coffee cup. That was a small detail that I’d remember in case I could tie an environmental theme into the interview.
Although most fan questions revolved around lap times and tire strategy, Norris seemed more interested in the bigger picture once we sat down in McLaren’s hospitality suite.
He acknowledged that Formula 1 drivers are often accused of ignoring climate change, but said that wasn’t fair. Drivers are constantly thinking about consumption, fuel, energy recovery, and tire life, he explained, emphasizing that efficiency is part of the job, not separate from it.
When I asked about the added pressure of following in Lewis Hamilton’s footsteps as a young British driver, he didn’t deny the weight of comparisons.
He also spoke, carefully but candidly, about the financial scrutiny teams like McLaren face.
Development costs, he said, always have to be justified to people who aren’t just racing fans, but stakeholders.
On Formula 1’s rising popularity in the United States, Norris said the Netflix effect had undeniably brought new eyes to the sport, though many newcomers were drawn to the spectacle rather than the mechanics.
The technical side (race strategy, braking points, ERS deployment) is something, he suggested, that takes years to understand.
Would American fans stick around?
Only if they have someone to root for, he said.
Logan Sargeant’s struggles hadn’t helped.
But if American drivers, or even drivers racing for American-backed teams, started winning regularly, the sport’s growth could last. He added with a grin that Americans love an underdog who becomes a champion. “Very Hollywood,” he joked.
The thirty-minute interview yielded enough material for 1,200 words about a driver managing expectations while building his own legacy separate from McLaren’s illustrious history.
I put it on ice until I had a chance to review it.
I looked over the Silverstone piece and after making some tweaks, I filed it.
Wednesday Afternoon - The Siripanit Interview
After I filed the Silverstone piece, Thea called. “The interview I was hoping for came through,” she said. “Nat Siripanit can give you thirty minutes. Coffee at 3 PM.”
We met at a café in Knightsbridge, away from the racing bubble. Nat arrived in designer jeans and a Ferrari polo, looking younger than his twenty-six years but carrying himself with quiet confidence.
“Apex Magazine,” he said, shaking my hand. “You’ve written some good stuff on Hirsch this season. Are you here to ask real questions, or softballs designed to make Meridian look good by comparison?”
“Real questions,” I said, though my heart skipped a couple of beats.
We talked for twenty minutes about Ferrari’s development trajectory, Nat’s relationship with his teammate, and the technical challenges of the SF-25. He was thoughtful and articulate, with none of the media-trained caution I’d expected.
Then I asked: “You and Hirsch have had similar career arcs. Both of you came up through smaller teams and had to prove yourselves. Now you’re both fighting for podiums. How do you assess his season compared to yours?”
Nat considered this, stirring his espresso.
“Jonathan’s having a great year,” he said finally.
“Podiums, his first win, consistent points, proving Meridian’s investment was justified.
But…” He paused, and I could see him choosing words carefully.
“There’s a difference between being good enough to win when circumstances align and being good enough to force those circumstances. ”
My pen stilled on the page.
“What I mean is,” Nat continued, “Monaco was brilliant qualifying and solid defense. Silverstone was excellent tire management and capitalizing on Verstappen’s engine failure.
Both are real skills and I’m not diminishing them.
But Ferrari brought me here to do more than capitalize.
They want me to create wins, not inherit them. ”
He said it without malice, but the implication was clear: I’m here to be a championship contender. Jonathan’s here to be the best of the rest.
“You don’t see him as a title threat?” I asked.
“I see him as very good at maximizing his car’s potential.
” Nat met my eyes directly. “But there are levels in Formula 1. There are drivers who are fast, drivers who are consistent, and drivers who are complete. The complete drivers, Verstappen, Leclerc, hopefully me, we don’t need perfect circumstances. We make our own luck.”
He glanced at his watch. “I have to go. Sponsor thing at five.” Standing, he added: “For what it’s worth, I think Jonathan’s better than he’s shown.
He’s just… playing it safe. Like he’s afraid to really push because he doesn’t want to prove his critics right.
That’s the difference between us. I’m not afraid to fail spectacularly. I think he is.”
After he left, I sat staring at my notes.
It was worse than I’d expected. Not because Nat had been cruel; he hadn’t been. But because everything he’d said was observant, quotable, and cut right to the heart of Jonathan’s insecurity about whether he belonged at F1’s top level.
And I was going to publish every word.
Wednesday Night - The Decision
I was back in my apartment, laptop open, cursor blinking, when my phone buzzed.
JONATHAN: How’s the writing going?
WALDO: Good. Got an interview with Nat Siripanit today.
JONATHAN: Nat? Interesting choice. What did he say?
I stared at that message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was exactly what Thea’s guardrails were designed to prevent: me warning Jonathan about negative coverage before it published.
WALDO: Championship stuff. Technical analysis. I’ll send you the link when it’s published.
JONATHAN: Looking forward to it. Nat’s smart. Probably gave you good material.
My chest tightened.
WALDO: Yeah. He did.
I set the phone down and returned to my laptop. The article was mostly written, 2,000 words on championship dynamics, quotes from four drivers, technical analysis of development battles. Nat’s comments about Jonathan appeared in paragraph nine, contextualized but not diluted.
It was fair. It was newsworthy. It was the kind of insider perspective that showed I could write critically about Jonathan even when it cost something.
And it would hurt him badly.
I could soften it. Frame it as “friendly rivalry.” Bury the “afraid to fail” comment deeper. Edit out the part about “inheriting wins.”
But that would be protecting Jonathan instead of serving readers. That would be exactly what Thea, and Mason, and everyone else watching, expected me to do.
I wrote the section straight. No editorializing. No softening. Just Nat’s words in their full context, balanced by other perspectives but not diminished.
At 11 PM, I hit publish. The article went live on Apex’s website at midnight London time, 7 PM in New York, when American readers were settling in for evening browsing.
By 1 AM, it was trending on motorsport Twitter.
Thursday Morning - The Aftermath
My phone woke me at 6:30 with a string of notifications. The article had blown up overnight. Formula 1 social media was dissecting Nat’s comments, debating whether he’d crossed a line, whether the criticism was fair, whether this was a new rivalry brewing.
“Siripanit: Hirsch ‘Afraid to Fail Spectacularly’” read one headline.
“Ferrari Driver Questions If Meridian’s Hirsch Is Championship Material” read another.
At 7:15, Jonathan called.
“Morning,” I answered, my stomach already tight.
“Did you see Twitter?” His voice was carefully neutral.
“Some of it.”
“Nat’s quotes are everywhere. ‘Playing it safe.’ ‘Inheriting wins.’ ‘Afraid to fail.’“ Jonathan paused. “Waldo, did you know he was going to say that?”
“I asked about championship dynamics. He answered honestly.”
“And you just… published it? All of it?”
My jaw tightened. “I’m a journalist, Jonathan. When a Ferrari driver makes news about the championship fight, I report it.”
“Even when it’s about me? Even when you know it’s going to be weaponized?”
“Especially then,” I said, harsher than I’d intended. “If I soften criticism of you, I’m not doing my job. I’m being your publicist.”
Silence stretched between us. I could hear him breathing, processing.
“The thing is,” he said, voice quiet, “Nat’s not wrong. That’s what makes it worse.”
“Jonathan.”
“No, really. He’s right. I am playing it safe.
I am afraid to push too hard because what if I bin it in qualifying and prove everyone right?
What if I go for a desperate overtake and end up in the gravel?
” He exhaled shakily. “But reading it in print, knowing millions of people are now discussing whether I’m too scared to be a real championship contender… ”
“The full quote has more nuance.”
“I read the full quote, Waldo. It says I’m afraid. It says my wins don’t count the same way his will.” Another pause. “I have to go. Strategy meeting.”
“Jonathan.”
“I’m not angry at you,” he said quietly. “You did your job. I get that. I just… I need some time to sit with this.”
The line went dead.