Chapter 326: 326: Fighting to the End

Hamilton was not surprised.

The media acted like a school of sharks. The slightest scent of blood could stir up a frenzy, let alone a gaping wound like the one currently on display.

Hamilton was mentally prepared, or at least he believed he was.

Remaining calm, composed, and steady, Hamilton wore his perfect mask. He was the untouchable figure in the paddock.

The corners of his mouth curled into a standard media smile. Even though this was the thousand-and-first time the media had asked the same question, Hamilton maintained the attitude of a professional driver. "Listen, I've already addressed this at Silverstone. It was a racing incident."

"We are all pushing at the limit, every single lap. I tried my best to give him space, but that's racing. If you don't attack, you lose. I accepted the time penalty, I accepted the lesson, and I've come to terms with the result."

"That's all there is to it. The matter should end here."

However, things didn't go as planned.

The reporters were relentless, like hyenas. Once they latched on, they wouldn't let go. Their voices grew even more excited.

"But Kai said you were desperate. Many experts believe this is out of character for you and that you are losing your composure. In fact, this isn't the first time. We saw a similar situation in Monaco, didn't we? Do you really believe you shouldn't have been disqualified?"

On and on.

It was endless, like buzzing flies constantly striking his eardrums. When the keyword 'Monaco' surfaced again, his tightly wound nerves twitched. His heart skipped a beat. A wave of disbelief erupted, slipping out of his control.

He thought he was fully prepared and could easily handle any situation. But when faced with the actual onslaught, his reason gave way.

Hamilton stared intently at the reporter. His calm, cold gaze pierced through armor and flesh, landing directly on the reporter's soul.

Bone-chillingly cold.

The angrier he became, the calmer he appeared. The angrier he became, the colder he sounded. Gripping the microphone, Hamilton's voice held no warmth and no fluctuation.

"So this is your job. Sitting there, passing judgment, telling us what we should do and how we should act, treating us like a bunch of robots. I have four World Championships. I've competed in hundreds of Formula 1 races. Do you think you know how to race better than I do?"

"If every 'racing incident' resulted in a disqualification, F1 would be finished. Michael Schumacher might not have a single World Championship! I don't want to sit here and listen to a bunch of keyboard warriors 'still living in their parents' basements' tell me what they think Formula 1 should be."

"I will not change my style. Kai is a fighter, and I respect him. After Silverstone, I spoke with Kai on the phone to make sure he was safe. The respect between us is still there. But don't try to use me to manufacture news and find your pathetic headlines at my expense."

"You want to disqualify me?"

"You can try! I will win this weekend, and the championship will remain mine!"

With that, he dropped the microphone and turned away, leaving a dead silence in his wake. Even the camera flashes were a half-beat slow, only capturing his retreating back.

The room was stunned.

Not just the reporters, but even Wolff was caught off guard.

This wasn't like Hamilton. From every angle, this was completely out of character. Furthermore, after Silverstone, hadn't Hamilton regained his composure and refocused early for Hockenheim? Why did he suddenly lose control under the provocation of a reporter?

Upon hearing the news, Wolff immediately rushed to Hamilton's private room.

Pushing open the door, he found Hamilton red-faced, sweating profusely, hands on his knees, panting heavily, barely able to catch his breath.

Wolff was alarmed. "Lewis!"

His first instinct was to shut the door, ensuring the Netflix crew hadn't followed. If they had, keeping them out was a priority.

He then turned to offer Hamilton some help.

As soon as his right hand touched Hamilton, Wolff realized something was terribly wrong. Hamilton was burning up, like a small furnace.

Hamilton looked up, seeing the panic and concern in Wolff's eyes. He reflexively said, "I'm fine."

But clearly, the statement lacked any persuasive power.

"Water. I just need some water." Hamilton still tried to downplay the situation.

Wolff wasn't buying it. He helped Hamilton sit down, quickly poured a glass of water, and without stopping, pulled out his phone.

"Come to Lewis's room immediately. Be discreet. Don't draw any attention, even within the team. Don't alert anyone."

His decisive tone carried a hint of ruthlessness.

Hanging up the phone, Wolff glared at Hamilton. "You need to be examined and treated."

"If necessary, you should rest—"

The team kept reserve drivers for exactly these kinds of special emergencies.

Before Wolff could finish his sentence, Hamilton rudely interrupted. "No!"

As a result, he started panting again, his following words a jumbled mess.

No wonder.

Looking at the disheveled, feverish Hamilton, Wolff's confusion was explained. No wonder Hamilton, who had supposedly steeled his resolve, had lost control in front of the media, exposing a rare flaw. Obviously, his high fever was clouding his consciousness. He probably hadn't even realized what he had said.

Wolff frowned, starting to worry. Beyond just Hamilton's words, had he let anything slip in front of the media?

The flushed cheeks, looking as if smeared with rouge, were impossible to hide. Anyone with eyes could see Hamilton wasn't well.

For Mercedes, this was dreadful news.

The team doctor arrived. After an examination, he confirmed Hamilton had the flu.

A high fever of thirty-nine degrees Celsius.

And from the looks of it, his temperature showed no signs of dropping; in fact, it was still rising. He was a continuously burning furnace.

This condition was unsuitable for driving. He shouldn't even be driving on regular roads, let alone in a Formula 1 car at speeds of 300 km/h. With a clouded consciousness, his body and brain's reaction times wouldn't be able to keep up. Forcing himself onto the track would be incredibly dangerous.

Phew.

Wolff exhaled softly, his mind racing.

This was a critical moment. The competition among the top three teams was tighter and more intense than ever. Mercedes had no room for error. A single slip-up could be exploited by their rivals, upending the entire season. He needed to maximize the team's interests.

A figure immediately popped into Wolff's mind.

George Russell.

Wolff wasn't crazy; the fever hadn't made him lose his mind.

He knew Russell was driving for Williams, and he knew Mercedes had their own reserve driver: Esteban Ocon, who had lost his seat last season.

Typically, in an unexpected situation like this, Ocon would be the first choice. He was fully capable of filling in for an ill Hamilton.

However, things weren't that simple.

First, the battle among the top three had drawn blood. Mercedes had lost the initiative in both Austria and Britain. They couldn't afford to lose at Hockenheim.

Wolff was Ocon's manager. He believed in Ocon's talent, but he also understood his shortcomings. In tight, close-quarters combat, Ocon was prone to impulsiveness and losing control. Verstappen was also impulsive, but his impulsiveness often led to better results. Ocon's impulsiveness, on the other hand, often resulted in self-harm and letting opponents off the hook.

Second, looking at the long-term layout, Mercedes needed to groom new talent, a successor to Hamilton. That successor was clearly not Ocon.

Taking everything into consideration, he believed Russell was the best candidate.

This season, Russell had been tormented at Williams, brimming with energy but with no outlet. It was only after entering the paddock that he realized the cruelty of reality.

Right now, Russell was likely at his lowest point in confidence but his highest in fighting spirit. His desire to prove himself was stronger than ever.

If Wolff were to descend from the heavens and extend an olive branch now, offering Russell a chance—a chance to prove himself, a chance to face Kai head-on, a chance to shine at Mercedes' home race—Russell would undoubtedly be deeply grateful and dedicated to Mercedes forever.

Moreover, precisely because of his hunger, Russell might unleash even greater strength.

The W10 was incredibly forgiving; it drove the same no matter who was behind the wheel. There was no fundamental difference between Ocon and Russell in that regard.

As for Williams... Mercedes could temporarily loan Russell, and in exchange, Ocon could drive for them at Hockenheim. For Ocon, as long as he had the chance to step onto the track, regardless of the car, he would grab it without hesitation.

Alternatively, Williams' own reserve driver, Nicholas Latifi, would likely be more than happy to step in.

Sudden events, accidents, situations, crises.

The more critical the moment, the more it showcased Wolff's capabilities. He didn't panic. His mind worked at high speed. In a short amount of time, he not only stabilized the situation and thought of a solution, but also controlled the overall picture and looked to the future. He wasn't scrambling to respond; he was turning a crisis into an opportunity, striving to maximize gains.

"Toto..."

While his thoughts churned, a voice reached his ear, weak but firm.

"Toto!"

Wolff finally snapped back to reality. Following the voice, he saw Hamilton struggling to sit up.

"Toto, I have to race."

Wolff was taken aback and tried to get Hamilton to lie back down and rest. "Lewis!"

Hamilton shook his head gently. "Toto, I have to race." He repeated the words. "The whole paddock is watching us right now. Not just Ferrari, Red Bull is also making moves. We have to fight back head-on. Backing down now could lead to a complete collapse of our entire season."

Wolff said, "The season is long. It's precisely for the long term that you need proper rest..."

Hamilton waved his right hand weakly, interrupting Wolff. "If I wanted to rest, I could retire and rest every day like Fernando. As long as I'm in the paddock, I have to... cough, cough... fight to the end."

"Toto!"

Hamilton looked up at Wolff, a firm resolve in his eyes.

"I need to be out there. I need to race. Believe me, I am more awake now than ever. I'm hungry for victory, and I will beat them all."

"This is a critical moment, Toto. You know that moments like this are what separate champions. This is Mercedes. This is the spirit Niki left behind, and it's the reason I joined in the first place. You have to believe in me. Amidst all the doubting voices, you know me best."

Calm, composed, unpretentious. No shouting, no forceful declarations.

But this Hamilton was exactly the Hamilton Wolff knew best.

Wolff's breath hitched. "But, Lewis, in your condition—"

Hamilton weakly raised a hand to stop him. "I know. But I can control it. I won't let anyone in the paddock see a single flaw."

"We need to keep this quiet. No leaks." On this point, Hamilton and Wolff reached a consensus.

"The whole paddock is watching closely." It wasn't just Ferrari and Red Bull. What others didn't know was that Lawrence Stroll was constantly complaining and applying pressure.

Lawrence Stroll was unsatisfied with Racing Point's season performance. He believed they should have a faster, more stable car, but Wolff hadn't delivered on his promises. He was watching Mercedes' every move, and the slightest flaw could evolve into a crisis of an ally turning on them.

Hamilton's eyes were slightly red, but bright. "We need a perfect performance. We need to show the demeanor of champions. I don't care what backup plans you're considering, Toto, but I am always the best option. The paddock needs to hear our voice."

He paused. "Toto, don't forget, this is an anniversary weekend. A significant weekend for motorsport and for Mercedes."

"I need a win."

Quietly, Hamilton straightened his back, looked straight into Wolff's eyes, and repeated it.

"I need a win."

It wasn't a boast or a forceful declaration. It was simply a calm, straightforward statement of fact. Yet, the conviction hidden within was palpable.

Unstoppable.

Watching this, Wolff couldn't help but recall Singapore last year. Kai had turned a disadvantageous situation around under extreme duress. From Monza to Singapore, he built momentum, laying the foundation of confidence for the dramatic comebacks at Interlagos and Abu Dhabi later on.

Everything in the world is a double-edged sword. A crisis can also be an opportunity. As Hamilton said, Mercedes needed to display the demeanor of champions.

The words that had risen to his tongue were swallowed back. Wolff looked at Hamilton. "You are a champion. You don't need to prove that to anyone."

While Mercedes was stirring up massive waves both seen and unseen, the chatter in the paddock showed no signs of stopping.

On the other hand, Ferrari, fresh off their victory at Silverstone, was uncharacteristically low-key.

"What happened at Silverstone stays at Silverstone."

"It's true, we had an unbelievable race. Believe me, I've watched the replay three hundred times. But that's in the past. We're at Hockenheim now. This is a brand new race, and we still face significant challenges."

Poised, humble, yet confident.

Kai effortlessly deflected the pressure. Ferrari was facing a mountain of internal pressure from Elkann. The last thing they needed was the media acting as Elkann's accomplice, fanning the flames, creating trouble out of nothing, and disrupting the hard-won balance at Maranello.

Of course, this wasn't easy. The reporters were relentless, continuing to press about the collision at Silverstone and whether Hamilton should have been disqualified, given that it wasn't the first incident of the season.

Swish, swish, swish!

Microphones and cameras instantly pointed at Kai. The space fell quiet, the tense and anxious atmosphere palpably spiking.

Yet, surrounded by the press, Kai remained calm and composed, a stark contrast to Hamilton.

"Once we left Silverstone, we stopped discussing Silverstone. Don't worry, I'll definitely be back at Silverstone next year. We can sit down and have a long chat about it then."

A small quip successfully elicited laughter from the reporters. Despite their best efforts, they failed to extract any more explosive quotes from Kai.

So, amidst the increasingly fierce rivalry, had Mercedes really lost their confidence? Was Ferrari truly still uncertain? Was Red Bull really in chaos?

Amidst various smokescreens, speculations, and games, the curtain slowly rose on Hockenheim.

Mercedes and Hamilton had done an incredible job keeping secrets. Not a single rumor leaked, and the paddock sensed nothing amiss.

In fact, the entire paddock was spinning in a joyous, party-like atmosphere. Following the celebration of the 1000th Grand Prix in Shanghai, Hockenheim was celebrating the 125th anniversary of motorsport. It was a weekend worth remembering for Mercedes and the entire paddock.

In this dazzling, overwhelming atmosphere, everything seemed perfectly normal. Pressure? No, no, no, no pressure at all. Just a party, a massive carnival!

...

The Paris-Rouen trial on July 22, 1894, is widely considered the birthplace of modern motorsport. Mercedes used this milestone to celebrate 125 years of racing history. Preparations had begun well before the season started, leading to a grand carnival at Hockenheim.

Not only that, but it was also a tribute to the classic 'Silver Arrow' era. In the 1930s, Mercedes had to scrape off their white paint due to weight restrictions, revealing the silver chassis beneath. This was the origin of the 'Silver Arrow' nickname, which eventually became a staple of modern racing.

To honor this, the two Mercedes cars featured a special retro livery, showcasing the process of the white paint being 'scraped off' to reveal the silver. It also included legendary historical logos, not only Niki Lauda's signature—reaffirming Lauda's legacy—but also the logo from the Silver Arrow's debut at the Nürburgring in 1934.

This was just the beginning.

The entire Mercedes team staff wore retro clothing, mimicking the attire of early 1950s F1: jackets, ties, suspenders, tweed, flat caps, and more. This commemorated Mercedes' return to F1 in 1954 and enhanced the 125th-anniversary atmosphere.

Mercedes even encouraged fans to wear 1950s retro clothing to Hockenheim, truly turning the event into a 'carnival.'

Go big or go home. If they were going to celebrate, they had to do it right.

Mercedes transformed Hockenheim inside and out into a retro racing feast, showcasing their appeal and influence to the entire paddock. Fans from Germany, Austria, the Netherlands, and surrounding areas flocked in, turning Hockenheim into a festival ground.

It had to be said, this sleight of hand was brilliant. Amidst the noise and bustle, no one noticed Hamilton's rare anomaly.

Even if they had, the answer seemed obvious: pressure.

Various circumstances and reasons all pointed to the difficulties Mercedes faced. Hockenheim was indeed a must-win race for the season.

Faced with the relentless pursuit of Ferrari and Red Bull, and the pressure both on and off the track, Mercedes displayed their confidence through a grand celebration. Bring on all challenges; they would use their actions on the track to show the true style of a championship team.

The drumbeat of the party had officially sounded!

"Mercedes is full of confidence, determined to win at Hockenheim!"

"Toto Wolff issues a must-win order."

"Bogged down and annoyed, Mercedes finally shows its teeth!"

The media was buzzing, fully sensing Mercedes' momentum. The German media elevated the home atmosphere to new heights.

Rumors suggested F1 was adjusting the calendar, eager to include more tracks, tap into new markets, and promote motorsport to different regions of the world. Naturally, some underperforming Grands Prix might be canceled, and Hockenheim was reportedly on the list. This was one of the underlying reasons for Mercedes and the German media's heavy promotion.

Of course, that was a matter for later. What was undeniable was that the 2019 German Grand Prix was indeed the grandest and liveliest event of the year so far.

Bar none.

Racing on home soil, Mercedes whipped up incredible heat, igniting Hockenheim.

However, the actual situation was slightly more complex.

Ferrari dominated all three free practice sessions, a first for the season.

In free practice, the two Ferrari drivers showed incredible strength, successfully carrying their excellent performance from Silverstone to Hockenheim. In the three sessions, Kai topped the first and third, while Leclerc set the fastest time in the second.

The SF90, having undergone two crucial upgrades this season, finally seemed to be getting on track as the summer break approached, launching a full-scale assault on the championship.

What about Mercedes?

Forget about matching Ferrari; Mercedes was locked in a tight battle with Red Bull, unable to shake them off in any of the three sessions.

This was also a first for the season.

For a moment, people were confused. What was going on? Was Mercedes deploying a strategic smokescreen?

But thinking about it calmly, that was highly unlikely. Otherwise, Mercedes wouldn't have adopted such a high profile to celebrate their 125th anniversary. Netflix had tripled their film crew to focus entirely on Mercedes, aiming to make Hockenheim the event of the year.

This was likely a commercial collaboration to help keep the German Grand Prix on the calendar. Wolff pushed for the Netflix partnership to seize the narrative initiative.

With such a massive operation underway, Mercedes had no reason to sabotage themselves by playing games during free practice at such a critical moment.

Did this mean Ferrari and Red Bull had truly caught up to Mercedes, and the three-way battle for the championship was officially reshuffled?

It was just the opening act. The appetizer alone had generated countless talking points, and expectations continued to soar. Everyone was hoping Hockenheim would inherit the momentum of the Red Bull Ring and Silverstone, climbing higher and higher to deliver the first true climax of the 2019 season.

Qualifying lived up to expectations.

In Q1, the Number 22 Ferrari dominated its first flying lap, drawing gasps from the paddock.

No one had forgotten that since taking pole in Bahrain, Ferrari's qualifying performances had been somewhat of a struggle, relying on Kai's individual ability to find breakthroughs. Leclerc, usually known for his qualifying prowess, hadn't been able to break through the constraints and deliver more either.

Initially, experts believed Ferrari had shot themselves in the foot, squandering their advantage. Later, they realized Ferrari was making a painful sacrifice, compromising their qualifying pace to gain race competitiveness, which had helped them stay close to Mercedes in the Constructors' Championship.

So now, with the car finally finding stability in the race, was Ferrari trying to reclaim its competitiveness in qualifying?

Was Kai's second pole of the season waving at him?

The discussion boiled over. Even non-Tifosi casual observers were cheering, hoping for the fiercest season competition possible.

And then, the Number 22 car returned to the pits and retired.

The crowd was stunned.

Crofty voiced the question on everyone's mind. "Wait, what happened on track? Why is Kai out of the cockpit and taking off his helmet?"

The broadcast immediately showed a replay. After finishing his flying lap, during the cool-down lap, Kai pulled off the racing line and slowed down significantly.

Via Kai's team radio, the reason was clear: Power unit failure.

Before things spiraled out of control, Kai proactively slowed down, minimizing any impact on the qualifying session, returned to the pits, and retired there.

The answer was revealed, but the shock and impact didn't diminish. If anything, it hit harder.

Crofty grabbed his head.

"Oh, my word, I can't believe my eyes."

"Since his F1 debut in Australia in 2018, Kai has maintained a rookie record of consistently reaching Q3. That record ends today at Hockenheim in 2019. It's an unprecedented and likely unparalleled record. Thirty-one consecutive Q3 appearances as a rookie. Today, that streak officially comes to a halt."

The words tumbled out. He couldn't help but tremble slightly, his mind going blank, instinctively marveling and gasping.

"Wow. The 125th-anniversary celebration race has just begun, and the dramatic tension is instantly maxed out, in a way absolutely no one predicted."