Some Things Never Change.

Sunday, the 7th of September,2008. At one of the most beautiful tracks that my eyes have ever set sight on, the radio on a particular Renault was turned on. A man with a heavy Spanish accent said to his engineers that drops of rain had started to fall on certain parts of the track. A commentator,with an English accent that always hangs on the verge of annoying me,spoke of how exciting the race was going to be. I thought, 'Isn't it already?'.

A couple of laps further into the Belgian Grand Prix, Papa's boy Lewis Hamilton had closed in on Kimi Raikkonen. After a brilliant start, well-planned pit stops and superbly controlled drive of over 35 laps, Kimi seemed vulnerable. Just as Alonso had mentioned over the radio, parts of the track saw rain. With Lewis hunting him down, Kimi had everything to lose. He would have to control his drive so he wouldn't go skating across the track,for a date with the barriers and yet be fast enough to keep Lewis behind.(Now that wouldn't be difficult for Schumi,but as good as Kimi is,he isn't Schumi right? ) Finally Lewis made his move.He came alongside Kimi,but cut a chicane to take the lead.Apparently,he backed off to give the lead back to Kimi. I started to release the breath that I'd held in for the last five seconds,but froze!Both the drivers went from left to right,swinging across the track,just before the powerful Mclaren got ahead of Kimi. And it seemed to me,that Kimi's front wing 'touched' Hamilton's rear wheel.
*GASP!*

I stood up,looked away from the TV and turned to see the huge portrait of Lord Krishna that sat in the middle of our living room. I prayed,from the purest part of my heart.My eyes were moving towards the Ganapathy idol,when Steve Slater went bonkers in the commentary box! I turned back,to see Lewis lose control of his car.Kimi and Lewis exchanged the lead a couple of times and then the race turned into what looked like an action scene from a movie.Kimi seemed to have trained very hard to perform a 360 degree spin. I pulled on my hair till a couple of strands came off and curled around my fingers. I yelled, "Mom, You've got to see this!". She came running and after about 3 seconds,she said "Don't worry, Lewis will crash".You see, we think she's good luck for Kimi. I was chewing on the nail that I'd bitten off, when all the excitement and fear died. Kimi lost control,but this time there was no escape. He hit the barriers,hard : with only two laps to go.I fell into my chair,unable to believe what had just happened. On seeing Lewis take the chequered flag, I turned off the television set.

Mom was upset. Me? After replying to a couple of 'proud' Mclaren fans and changing my status on the networking sites that i frequent, I shut myself in my bathroom and tried to accept 'reality'. This race meant SO much to Kimi. His favorite track,he'd won here thrice over the last three years and he had worked so hard to silence the mindless critics who were out talking about how his career would never see another victory. As I sat on my bathroom floor( This because my father would certainly not appreciate me being upset for a 27 year old Finn) thinking of what Kimi was probably going through, I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I was crying. Crying for a man whose numerous engine failures and tyre ruptures,just a couple of years back(2002-2006 in Mclaren), would amuse me. Last I cried in my bathroom was on the day of the Japanese Grand Prix,2006,the penultimate race of the year,when Michael had a good chance of winning his eighth and would be final championship title.He was in the lead with 16 laps to go,when his engine blew. Alonso took the race and the title that year. I cannot explain in words, the agony I went through. I cursed Lady Luck and obviously, the man i hated the most back then,Fernando Alonso. I felt things had never been that unfair,ever! Now,even if I wasn't as upset as I was on that sickening evening, I let my tears run loose and cried my heart out.

I had assumed that after Michael left,I could sit back,relax and simply enjoy the sport. But no. I started to suffer of a headache induced by all the sobbing.After thinking about poor Kimi,I sat to think about myself. While watching the sport, my heart is always in my mouth, I have my own rituals of praying at regular intervals and so on. Once a race is over, I'm either so elated that I could burst a bunch of blood vessels, or , I go into depression. When Schumi was around, topping an exam..winning an event..maybe even winning a lottery wouldn't come close to the joy of seeing him jump on the top step of the podium. Yes, other sports do this to me too. Take for example, the ManU-Chelsea and Germany-Spain matches that took place a couple of months back.And of course, THE Wimbledon final where Roger played Rafa. As nervous as these matches have made me, they haven't brought me to a state of nervous breakdown,that any ordinary Formula1 race can,with utmost ease.I've lost count of the abuses that I've hurled, the strands of hair that I've lost, nails that I have chewed on and swallowed,perhaps, and all the mindless arguments I've had with my friends.

I had thought of this many times before,but today I made my decision.Lady Luck wasn't going to favour those who I supported. I was punishing myself,watching these races. I figured,I was simply too addicted to a sport that would one day result in me being carried out of my home in a stretcher. Yes, I'd decided that I wouldn't watch F1 again. I'd probably read the results in the papers, but no torturing myself again. No more F1. Period.
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Three hours later, I get an SMS that tells me, Lewis has been penalized and demoted to third, for cutting across the chicane and not handing the lead back to Kimi properly. Massa has been declared the race winner.
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So hey, who doesn't come across failures,right? Stuff like this happens all the time,don't you think? We should never give up. Not until we taste success! Now I look forward to seeing a place that I absolutely love. In about six days, its MONZA baby!!!

Ferrari uber Alles!!!!!