The room they’d set up for the interview was smaller than I expected.A conference room in the hospitality suite, chairs positioned at an angle to each other, a single camera on a tripod with a boom mic hanging overhead.Intimate.That was what they always called these setups.Like we were just two people having a conversation.
And not old teammates with a bitter past.
“Comfortable?”Ollie asked, settling into his chair across from me.
“Fine.”
“Great.This shouldn’t take too long.”He glanced at his notes then back at me.“Just want to get your perspective on a few things.The real Henri Dubois, you know?”
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral.“Sure.”
The camera operator—a young guy with a beard and a vest over his button-down—counted down from three with his fingers.The production assistant stood behind him, tablet in hand, watching a monitor I couldn’t see.
The camera light blinked red, and Ollie flipped his notepad open.“Let’s start small.Australia, the first race of the season.That late safety car—what went through your head?”
“The tire temp.”I kept my hands folded in my lap, knuckles pale.Ollie perhaps didn’t appreciate my short answers, but he continued to roll through the past nine races.
“You’ve looked incredibly sharp this season.”His eyes stayed on my face, not the paper.“As an F1 veteran in their eighth season, how would you describe your growth as a driver since joining the team?”
“It’s been a good learning experience,” I said.“The team has given me strong machinery and great support.I’m focused on maximizing every opportunity.”
Ollie nodded, making a show of checking his notes.“So far, this season has had its ups and downs for you—some brilliant performances, some more challenging races.How do you maintain consistency at this level?”
“You learn from every race.”I shrugged.“Analyze what went right, what went wrong, and apply those lessons moving forward.”
“Interesting.”Ollie tapped his pen against his notepad.“Because looking at the data, your qualifying sessions have been particularly strong this year.You’ve had great qualifying, but the race results haven’t always matched that pace.What do you think accounts for that gap?”
I shifted in my seat slightly.“Racing is unpredictable.Strategy, tire degradation, pit stops—there are a lot of variables that affect the outcome.”
“Of course.But some might argue that there’s also a mental component.”He paused.“Would you say you’re better at the sprint—the single fast lap—than the marathon of a sixty-lap race?”
“I wouldn’t characterize it that way.”
“How would you characterize it then?”
“I’d say I’m working on being complete in all aspects of race craft.”
“Hm, that must add a lot of pressure,” Ollie nodded, leaning forward slightly.“Formula 1 is one of the most mentally demanding sports in the world.We’ve seen drivers over the years struggle with anxiety, burnout, the weight of expectations.How are you coping with that pressure this season?”
“I’m managing it well,” I said.“Every driver faces pressure.It’s part of the job.”
“Of course.But some might argue that there’s also a mental component to racing consistency.”Ollie glanced at his notes.“The ability to perform under pressure for two hours straight, lap after lap, managing the car and the competition simultaneously.That’s a different challenge than a single qualifying lap, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I agreed.“But that’s true for every driver on the grid.”
“Fair point.”He nodded thoughtfully.“But again, looking at your results during this season specifically, there does seem to be a gap between your one-lap pace and your race-day execution.Five front-row starts, but only two podiums.What do you attribute that to?”
“Like I said—strategy, tire management, race circumstances.There are a lot of factors.”
“Right, of course.”Ollie made a note on his pad.“Continuing on the mental side of that, though.How do you personally handle the pressure of a full race distance?The decision-making, the focus required over those two hours?”
“The same way every professional does,” I said.“You train for it, you prepare, you execute.”
“Do you work with anyone on that side of things?A sports psychologist?Mental performance coach?”
“I work with the team’s performance staff,” I said carefully.
The conversation Lily and I had in Monaco replayed in my head uninvited.She’d told me to get help.Practically begged me to talk to someone, anyone.And like the coward I was, I’d shut her down.I stared at the camera operator, searching his impassive face for some kind of answer, some script to follow.
