Amer

Something something the caretaking dynamics. Bradley Scanes describing Max's tight inner circle, and joking that getting along with Max's family was probably what helped him cinch the job. He had some (unspecified) injuries he was dealing with at the time but didn't have a physio, and he needed someone who could "look after him." Chris Harris describing an almost parental feeling of protectiveness after having met Max- even as an adult, because it's hard to look at him and not remember the boy he once was and how he was treated. Christian describing Max as like, "a thoroughbred racehorse, GP his engineer is hanging on to the reins of." Laurent coming onto the radio after Hungary and apologizing for not getting Max the car he deserves. That one Puma video showing how much goes into making the kit comfortable for each driver, with individual preferences on fit honored down to the half centimeter. All the dozens of people who have commented on Max's work ethic and loyalty. That one Abu Dhabi radio: "we love you, we absolutely fucking love you." All the shots of trainers from various wet races as they help their drivers into the car, taking off their boot covers for them. Mark Thompson watching Max grow up through the eye of his camera lense. That one pap photo I won't repost from Singapore 2022 where Max is like. Half dead on the ground behind a dumpster with Bradley crouched in front of him. Something something when the team loves their driver like something precious and hones them like a killing edge, and the driver gives them everything he is in return. Oh my lord, Max.

where is this love and care now, red bull?

But imagine you have that. You have all of that. You, for the first time in your life, have people who love you and take care of you and seem to actually genuinely like you. And then one day you wake up and it's gone. Every one of those people are gone and the ones who are still in your vicinity are all but already gone. You think you finally finally after twenty years of misery have something worth keeping and within eight years all you have left is the ache of a memory. You can't help but wonder if all the love was actually an illusion.