After yesterday's Mexico Grand Prix, rookie Windsor driver Brendon Ellis still finds himself leading the Drivers' Championship by 11 points, which is not as large of a gap as he wanted, but the team's decision to do a double stack in the pits today didn't pan out as hoped. Both Windsor drivers found themselves at the front of the pack early on in the race, but quickly found themselves losing pace, and the mishap in the pitlane only cost them further points. Idris managed to pull himself back up to the front for a modest third place podium, which helped close some of the gap in the points between him and his teammate, but Brendon was caught up in traffic after switching to the medium compound tyres and had to settle for seventh place.

While Brendon remained optimistic during the post-race interviews, fans could tell he was disappointed in the poor strategy and preparedness of the crew which cost him vital points leading up to the final race in São Paulo next week. Luckily for him, this upcoming track tends to suit Windsor cars pretty well, though that does mean he's going up against his teammate with a championship dangling between them in his final year in F1. Johnson has won the last four races in Brazil and is undoubtedly looking to secure his last and final Grand Prix win, which would also secure his record-breaking eight Drivers' Championship title as well.

If Idris Johnson can claim victory at next week's race, Ellis will have to finish at least P3 to claim his maiden championship title. While going up against the titan is no easy feat, Ellis has proven himself as a force to be reckoned with this season, and he's the most likely challenger against Johnson's dominance. Windsor was already rewarded the Constructors' Championship title in the last race, so all eyes will be on the Windsor drivers to see who claims the other title.

Going into the 2021 season, Windsor had a lot of good PR buzz they needed to generate due to the public perception of a certain...hmm... team principal, but they successfully managed to turn things around. This year, polls have shown the public's appetite for Windsor has shifted positive, and a lot of spectators believe the relationship between Johnson and Ellis is one of the biggest reasons. Windsor is a relatively new team in F1, and their driver pairings in the past haven't always been the best. Points scoring? Sure. But not without a lot of off-track drama.

At the last pre-race press conference, Johnson spoke very highly of his teammate Ellis, pointing out his improvements over the two years they've driven together. When asked whether he would congratulate Ellis on winning his first title this year should that happen, Johnson, of course, said there's no other teammate he would be more proud to lose to. Ellis echoed similar sentiments saying that just driving alongside his greatest F1 idol was the biggest honor, and though he hoped for a happy ending to this season, no matter how it ended, he would still be happy with the overall experience.

Who are you rooting for? Personally, though he has many more years on him, we'd love to see Ellis take this year's title. He's one of the most impressive talents we've seen on the grid in years. But we also wouldn't be sad to see Johnson extend his title-wins record and put an end to all of his critics for his final year in the sport.

Let us know down below how excited you are for the final race! See you in São Paulo!

...

"Everleigh said Roman almost cried after they fucked up your second pit stop."

        Brendon laughs and I'm thankful we decided on a video call this time. Hearing someone laugh is nice, but seeing it take over their entire body is even better. It's my favorite version of him and I'll take being able to see it as much as I possibly can.

        "Yeah, that was kind of a bummer."

        "Kind of?" I scoff. "It was a major bummer. You could've gotten P2 if they hadn't fucked up. Hell, you could've gotten first."

        Staying level-headed when faced with unfair decisions that negatively affect him is one of Brendon's strongest suits. Still, there are times when getting frustrated and letting people know you're frustrated is perfectly reasonable, and this is one of those times.

        Even the team knew it. Though they were there to celebrate Idris' podium finish, you could see they were disappointed with how Brendon's race finished through no fault of his own. They've been excellent all season and no one will take that away, but it does suck to see such careless mistakes being made so close to the end of a season with the drivers' championship still up in the air.

        "I know. But people make mistakes. It's fine. Safety cars don't always work out in your favor. No use worrying about something I can't change. Just gotta keep pushing to do better next week."

        It sucks that I can't be there for him right now. Brendon claims that I'm his good luck charm since he finishes every race I go to on the podium, but since he finishes most of them on the podium, regardless of my attendance, I call bullshit. He's just that good; it has nothing to do with me.

        "Would be nice to have my good luck charm there next week, though," he says after I'm silent for too long, lost in my train of thought.

        "It would be nice, wouldn't it?" I joke.

        Truth is, I've had my plane tickets booked for a couple of weeks now, along with the rest of MARS who all want to go to show their support. Marty even reached out to Geoff to ensure we had all of the right access to get the best view of the race above the garages. Brazil always shows up for their Grand Prix, and tickets have been sold out since the beginning of the season. What little tickets anyone could find being sold online were going for outrageous prices due to the demand that Idris' and Brendon's standings in the championship gives them. It's only been two days since the last race and Twitter is already flooding with predictions about how the final race of the season is going to go.

        "Babe—" he laughs.

        "You can tell me to fuck off if you want but can we maybe talk about it?" I ask, ignoring his whining.

        "About what, specifically?"

        I shrug. "How you're feeling. What's going through your head. I get you're trying to keep your head in the game and all but...I want you to know I'm here, regardless of what's happening internally or externally."

        As his Stevie, he should know better than to lie to me. So I have to scoff when he replies, "I haven't thought about it much."

        "You're so full of shit."

        Brendon looks at me through the screen like he's hopelessly in love. Suppose it's true. He told me himself. "Oh, how the turns have tabled, huh?"

        "Maverick, when did you get here?"

        "We text, you know."

        I narrow my eyes. "About what?"

        "I'm not telling you. Everleigh is a good therapist too. I get why MARS loves using her services."

        "Why is this the first time I'm hearing yall are besties—"

        He leans back in his seat and angles the phone higher to keep himself in frame. "It's a lot all at once. I don't even know where to begin."

        "Can I tell you something? I promise I'm not trying to make this about me. I just want you to know that I understand. To some extent."

        He smiles at me, and I can't remember my life before I was blessed with that smile. To think I can see it virtually whenever I want. If this is a dream, nobody better pinch me.

        "Of course," he answers. "Always."

        In less than a week, Brendon will start the final race weekend of the season. It feels like it's been an eternity since we went back to the Melbourne Grand Prix at the start of the year, and I can't help but feel like we're on the edge of something great. I don't know what yet, but if this season has done anything, it's shown the world that Brendon is a force to be reckoned with.

        I don't want him to shut himself off and pretend like this is something he can work through alone. Because he's not. He's never alone, and if I have anything to do with it, he never will be. I want him to live through this moment as a time that means something, something special, and remember it for as long as he can.

        "I know that accolades are only a small part of what we do," I say. "Our worth isn't just measured in numbers or achievements. As silly and privileged as our lives can be sometimes, we somehow give people someone to root for and care for. We work hard and dedicate so much of ourselves to these things we love and that's most important. But I can't lie and say I don't want to win. I do. I want it for myself, for everyone that has supported me and gotten me to where I am today. Hell, I want it for those who've doubted I'd ever make it here. I want it. And it won't be the end of the world if I don't get it, but I want it. And that's okay. That's great to want these things, too. It motivates you to always do better so you feel like you're worthy of the support you get. And no matter where your head is at right now, it's okay to say that you want it or talk about if you're nervous. Whatever is going on in your head, it's okay. And I want you to feel like you can share any of it with me."

        By the time I'm done rambling, unsure if anything I'm saying even makes sense in the first place, Brendon has a faraway look in his eyes. Even before he says anything, I have an idea of what he's thinking about. While Brendon has driven himself into what many will say is one of the most critical spots any driver in F1 could strive to be, his journey to get there hasn't been the easiest, and most of, if not all, of his struggles come from the relationship with the man who introduced him to the sport.

        "You know, I was thinking the other day." Brendon combs his fingers through his hair and tugs the strands to the side. "I don't know if I ever told you about this but when I was thirteen, my dad left me in the parking lot of the karting track because I'd made a mistake. I sat there for two hours by myself, not sure of what to do. I didn't have a phone or anything and everyone else had gone home. It got pretty dark. I was so cold. My cheek hurt."

        I don't know what to say. Leaning over the counter and resting my head on my arms, I don't say anything at all.

        "He did stuff like that a lot. Made me feel terrible if I made mistakes. If I did something because I'm human. Everyone around me always said wow, that sucks but it must be why you're so good at what you do. I didn't realize it until I came to F1 and started reading things from my fans that it wasn't a normal thing at all. All of the shit he did was bad. But it didn't matter to him. By then, he'd been told enough times that he was the reason I became as good as I am."

        If he was here in front of me in person, I would hug him. I settle for running my finger along the screen.

        "I don't—" He stops and looks around, avoiding me.

        When he looks a little too lost, I tap on my screen knowing he'll hear it and come back to me. And he does. Slowly. I see the scar above his eyebrow, a small and faint white line, and wonder if I'm overthinking it and all of the other scars. If his are just stretched across his heart or something more. I don't pressure him to confirm or deny; if there's anything he wants to tell me, he will on his time.

        "I know I'm supposed to want this for myself. Because I work hard and put everything I have into it. This success is mine and mine only. But, god, do I want to win. I want to win and tell him that it's not because of him, it's in spite of him and everything he's done to me. That I pulled myself up from the shit hole he's always forced me into. I drove myself to become a Grand Prix winner. I drove myself into becoming the championship leader. And if I win this title, it's because of me. Not him. Never because of him."

        Finally, he looks back at me. Without one hint of sadness on his face, no other sign that he's working through all of the baggage that comes with being where he is, he smiles.

        Aside from the obvious love I have for him, it's in these moments that I remember how much I admire him as a person and how he's able to use his pain as fuel without letting it drag him down.

        "Stacey said she can't come. They're not letting her."

        It's the only hint of regret in his voice. I wouldn't say that I know them, but I hate them for it. To myself, I make it a goal to get his sister to see his races again soon. No matter what it takes. I'll fly to Melbourne myself if I have to.

        "She'll be cheering for you," I reassure him.

        "I know." He repeats, reminding himself, "I know."

        "I love you. And no matter what happens, even though I know you're going to win, I'm so proud of you."

        "I love you." He reaches toward the screen and rubs it as I did earlier. I close my eyes and imagine he's here right now, feeling his touch against my skin. "So, you are coming though, right?"

        "Of course I am."

        "Okay. Just making sure." A pause. "I am kind of nervous, though."

        "That's okay. Nerves can be good."

        Brendon rests his eyes, a soft sigh escaping past his lips. "You're good. You're always the good thing in my life."

        "It's really unfair of you to say things like that when I'm not there to throw myself at you."

        "Good thing you'll see me in Brasil," he laughs.