My Formula 1 System

The team returned to Berlin the following day to wrap up the seventh round of the championship season, as all teams now had their sights set on the eighth round.

The eighth round of the season was likely going to be special, as it held the Spanish Grand Prix. And as far as Luca could recall, Spain was a very festive nation whenever their schedule for Formula driving arrived.

Usually, the streets leading to the circuit, whether in Madrid or Barcelona, would be lined with flags and fans from all walks of life. There would be an atmosphere of celebration stretching even far from the race's venue and throughout the country. It was because of this energy that the Federation often scheduled Spain as one of the countries to host the season's final Grand Prix or Mega Prix in other words. This was why Luca was surprised to find out that Spain was scheduled to host the eighth round, with just four more to go right after.

Either way, Luca was glad that he would participate in the Mandalora, as everyone called the circuit instead of saying the long Circuito del Barca–Raval, located in Barcelona. It was a magnificent circuit, one he could confidently claim to know like the back of his hand from all the descriptions he had come across over the years of his life.

Luca took in a deep breath of the damp air as he stepped out of a private cab, the smell of last night's rain still lingering in the streets and roads of Mitte. He found himself standing before a quaint fast-food restaurant that had a sense of old-world grandeur. He had heard the restaurant was extremely costly and grandiose, making him wonder why Mallow had chosen it for their meetup.

When did he start having an eccentric taste? Luca asked himself as he followed other visitors entering with purpose.

Luca found a quiet, secluded table to the right in the open reception area, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of Mallow. The place was a strange mix of luxury and convenience, and it felt odd to be here, waiting. He slid into the chair and let out a sigh, his fingers brushing against the menu resting on the table. With a quick glance, he picked it up and began reading through the offerings.

All Luca could see were absurd figures; even a simple soda was priced at $10 for a small.

Luca scoffed, leaned back, and dropped the menu, letting his mind wander as he waited for Mallow. His thoughts drifted to a certain Formula 1 race he had managed to watch while still in the heat of his Racecraft program. The race had been held at Circuito del Barca–Raval as well, two years ago during the Mega Prix of the season. It was the same season Haddock Racing had clinched their last championship title, although their driver hadn't actually won the Mega Prix. That alone spoke volumes about the fiercely competitive nature of the top division.

The victory went to Hank Rice, whose commanding performance sealed Nevada's place in the top five. His win, famously at the Mandalora MP as the race was often called, also played a decisive role in blocking Bueseno Velocità from amassing the points needed to overtake Haddock Racing in the constructor standings. Ailbeart Moireach's consistent efforts midseason for Haddock was what solidified their lead.

However, the players' standings painted a different picture. Davide DiMarco of Bueseno Velocità emerged as the drivers' champion that season, a testament to his remarkable consistency across the calendar. Meanwhile, Hank Rice's triumph in Mandalora propelled him to fourth place overall, and Ailbeart Moireach secured second. Marco Rossi of Jackson Racing rounded off the season's top three, completing the podium standings.

One could only imagine how tense the season was and how suffocating the rivalry amongst the drivers grew. The MP only displayed a fraction of the level of competition all the GPs had unveiled.

Luca's thoughts flickered back to the present.

For some reason, he had a feeling Mallow would burst into the restaurant at any moment. To his surprise, the thought proved accurate as Mallow appeared at the door, dressed in a dark coat—as usual—and was just taking off his glasses. That meant he had been wearing shades outside, though the sky was cloudy. Typical Mallow, Luca thought, raising a hand to catch his agent's attention, ensuring Mallow spotted him right away.

Mallow approached the table, hung his coat neatly over the back of a chair, and sank into the seat opposite Luca with a sigh of relief. He leaned back slightly, looking as though he had finally found a moment to relax.

Impatient, Luca jumped straight to the point. "Why did you pick this place? It's so far."

"You'd prefer a public spot? I see you're enjoying the attention these days," Mallow said.

"Wha—? No, I'm not," Luca shot back, realizing what Mallow meant. This restaurant's controlled atmosphere likely ensured visitors wouldn't react the way a crowd at a public spot would if they recognized him as Trampos' Luca Rennick. Mallow was saying this because right after the team's return from Budapest, there was a swarm of crowd waiting at their headquarters! Luca had no idea such many Germans were intrigued by motorsport, let alone Formula 2. They had crowded their gate and the surrounding areas to cheer the team and most importantly, Luca for winning his second F2 Grand Prix with his teammate down.

It took nearly an hour for security to disperse the crowd and allow Trampos' convoy of buses and trucks to enter the premises. Trampos' team officials had been adamant in advising Luca and his fellow drivers to avoid mingling with the crowd, not out of disregard but out of caution. The atmosphere, though celebratory, was unpredictable, and the sheer number of people posed safety concerns.

Luca shrugged, folding his arms. "Now, I'm hungry, and a meal here costs a kidney," he said.

Mallow laughed. "Don't worry, we won't stay long. Let's just discuss some important things that need full understanding," he replied. "First and foremost, we really need to land and finalize this deal with Hawthorne. Her team and I have scheduled the second signing after the next race in Barcelona. We might stay an extra week to complete everything. I want to know if that schedule is fine with you."

"It is."

Mallow nodded, silently satisfied. Truthfully, he wouldn't have given Luca much choice, as he was determined to lock in the deal with Mrs. Hawthorne as soon as possible. "The second important thing now, which I really didn't see coming—a contract extension," Mallow said, watching Luca's face for his reaction.

Contract extension? Luca thought, his mind racing to understand. "You mean Trampos wants to extend my contract length?" he asked for clarity and Mallow responded positively.

Luca was shocked.

"They're offering something tangible, Luca," Mallow said in a near whisper, sensing Luca was already gearing up to reject the offer.

"How many years?"

"Four more years."

Four years? No way. I can't.

Trampos had clearly recognized Luca's exceptional driving talent and the potential heights he could reach. It was no surprise they offered a new contract overlapping his current two-year deal. However, Luca was satisfied with the original two-year arrangement, given the rarity of one-year deals in sports. He had no intention of committing four more years to an F2 team, especially when his sights were set on reaching Formula 1 by the end of this year.

Luca loved Trampos Racing, but no, he had a journey to keep on moving and a system that expected him to be in F1 by next year. Signing a four-year deal with Trampos was just going to jeopardize the possibility of making it into the top division. It was simple sports math in Luca's opinion.

"I don't think I can do that, man," Luca said firmly. "It's too much."

"Luca, they're offering to multiply your current salary by twelve. Twelve!" Mallow exclaimed, still keeping his voice low. "Do you even realize what that means? That's $600k plus!"

Luca groaned, side-eyeing Mallow with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Don't tell me this is all about the money," he muttered, though his thoughts briefly entertained the number. It wasn't even the amount, but the rate of increase Mr. Fisher and his board had decided to fix. $600,000 for an F2 driver was enormous, unheard of, even. It is quite high, Luca thought.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I like the offer," Luca admitted, "but they'll chain me down, and I won't make it to F1."

Mallow's frown morphed into an amused smile. He rubbed his temples, laughing softly. "This is exactly why you sport athletes need an agenting team," he said with a chuckle. "It doesn't work that way, Luca. You're afraid of staying stuck in F2? A contract won't decide that."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The aroma of bacon lingered in the air, causing Luca's stomach to growl. He cast a brief glance at a nearby table, where a magnificent meal had just been served, then turned back to Mallow. "I don't understand."

"Listen, Luca. It doesn't matter if you have a ten-year deal with Trampos. If an F1 team wants you, they'll get you. Why do you think Trampos is so eager to keep you, hmm?" Mallow explained. "And Trampos doesn't have an F1 team, which means no rivalries to complicate things. If an F1 team comes calling, it'll be easier than you think. Plus, with this new deal, your market value will skyrocket—and so will your future salary."

Luca stared at Mallow, mulling over the explanation. He wanted himself to accept the understanding. "So, at the end of it all, it's just about the paycheck, isn't it?"

Mallow chuckled, twisting the cap off the free bottled water on the table and taking a long sip. "Maybe," he said with a shrug.

"And how sure are you that an F1 team will come buying me from Trampos?" Luca asked.

Mallow leaned back, his expression growing sharper. "And how sure are you that an F1 team will sign you for free when your two-year deal ends?" he countered.

The words hit Luca like a ton of bricks and that was when the understanding seeped into his brain. Oh.

"So," Mallow continued, sensing Luca's shift in understanding, "the best move is to follow this path. Worst case? No one comes for you, but you're still earning $600k. Best case? An F1 team signs you, and you leave Trampos with over $3M in your pocket—depending on the team—plus a transfer fee that reimburses Trampos for their investment in you. Win-win," Mallow finished. "So now you understand, young lad. Would you put your signature when the papers are ready?"

Luca bit his lip. This was a daring move of his career he was about to take. But from Mallow's explanation, not taking this move would even demolish his career. So he accepted, hoping and praying Trampos gets an offer by the end of the season. All he needed to do was drive exceptionally well.

Mallow's face lit up. "Good! That's my boy." He snatched up the menu with renewed enthusiasm. "I think we'll be able to afford everything on this menu very soon. Why not start now?"

Luca smiled, shaking his head as Mallow flagged down a waiter.