Page 12 of Formula Chance

“All right, let’s get started,” I say, maneuvering to a spreadsheet that shows the final simulation data. “I’ve reviewed everything from last night’s sims, and based on the projected track conditions and temperature, we’ve got two viable strategies. I’ve broken them down according to the drivers’ strengths and the likely impact of tire degradation. After brainstorming with the entire strategy team, here’s my recommendation.”

I bring up the screen, showing the simulation data for both Bernie and Matthieu and go over the key points. I then pull up a comparison to the data from the last time the team raced in Jeddah, adjusting for upgrades to the cars made in the past year. A database spreadsheet contains numbers that would be incomprehensible for them to interpret, so I only show them the summary page with a projection of tire degradation based on known track conditions, weather and speed.

“For Bernie, I suggest a more conservative approach. The lower tire wear rate in the first half of the race will allow us to maintain pace without pushing too hard. We’ll maximize his stint on the harder compounds to avoid unnecessary risk.”

I click through to Matthieu’s data. “For Matthieu, on the other hand, the strategy should focus on pushing hard in the beginning. We can afford to risk a quicker stint on the softer compound for his faster lap times. If he’s able to capitalize on the first few laps and gain positions early, we’ll make up ground before the track temperatures drop and tire performance degrades.”

I pause, scanning the room. I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me but shrug it off. I’ve had to present my data before and my track record—pun totally intended—has always produced favorable and often winning results.

“That’s the gist of it,” I say after finishing the last slide. “But as always, this is just the strategy engineer’s suggestions. I’ll need everyone’s feedback to finalize the plan.”

I take a breath and look up at the group. I sense the subtle shift in the room. Matthieu’s expression is one of mild disinterest. Bernie’s face, however, has already twisted into a scowl.

“Let me get this straight,” Bernie says, the arrogance dripping from his words. “You want me to basically play it safe while Matthieu gets to go full throttle? I’m a team driver here, not his warm-up lap.”

There’s a hint of resentment in his voice, and I don’t blame him. But this is the strategy that makes sense. I can see it in the data. I’ve had to weigh risks against reward, and there’s a reason Bernie’s been a backup driver and not called to fill a permanent slot in FI racing.

I know it’s the right decision.

“Yes, Bernie,” I reply evenly, keeping my tone calm. “Your approach has to be less aggressive to ensure we don’t risk losing tire life in the early laps. You need to maintain pace, avoid overdriving the car, and focus on consistency. We can’t afford to make mistakes and our goal for you is to get a top ten finish.”

Formula racing is both a team and an individual sport, and while the drivers compete for their own championship, I don’t work for them individually. I work for Titans Racing and we are striving as a company to win the Constructor’s Shield. That’s a point-based championship and you must finish in the top ten of the twenty drivers in the field to get points.

Bernie scoffs. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are we in a race or a test session?” He leans forward, his tone condescending. “I’m not going to let you ‘play it safe’ with me and I want to push as hard as we can.”

I glance at Hendrik, but his gaze is fixed on the screen in front of him, unreadable. He’s not jumping in, not yet.

“Bernie,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “The data shows that tire degradation is significantly higher when the temperatures drop at night. The race won’t be until eight p.m. The expected lower track temperatures will affect tire performance. Going too hard, too fast, will risk overheating or even blistering the compounds.”

“It’s fucking Saudi Arabia. We’re in the desert. How cold can a track get?”

I inhale a calming breath. “It’s not about the track being cold it’s about the track cooling when the sun goes down. It will affect the tires regardless if we’re in the desert.”

Matthieu, who’s been silent until now, shifts in his chair, a smug look spreading across his face. “I agree with Bernie. You’re asking him to drive like he’s racing in a simulator, Bexley. No real driver would follow that kind of strategy unless they’re just too scared to get the job done.”

I glance at Matthieu, resisting the urge to call him out for the arrogance that oozes from his pores. He’s not advocating for Bernie. He’s just making it clear that he’s the preferential driver. He’s more concerned with showing off than with what works in the race.

“Actually,” I say, looking directly at him, “the strategy is based on sound judgment. It’s not about fear, Matthieu. It’s about understanding the reality of the race. We’ve seen high tire wear on this track in the past, and the cooling temperatures will only exacerbate that. I’m managing risk, which is what I’m paid to do.”

“Risk?” Matthieu laughs, his voice harsh. “You think we’re here to play it safe? This is Formula International, not a Sunday drive. If you’re going to manage risk, you’re already a step behind and I have to wonder if you even know what you’re doing.” He then looks at Bernie and winks. “I’m thinking they were just trying to fill some quota of women in the organization since Norcross took it over.”

My blood boils but I don’t react. That’s what they want me to do, so I just stare at the two drivers.

Hendrik shifts in his seat, leaning forward and speaking to Bernie. “She has a point. Tire management will be crucial in these conditions and there’s a reason we employ engineers to look at this data.”

Bernie crosses his arms, still not convinced. “I don’t like it, Hendrik. I need to know you’re not setting me up to fail with this ‘safe’ strategy.”

That’s a somewhat serious accusation to make, as no one would ever set up their drivers to fail. Not to mention, this isn’t a unique plan. Many teams will be employing the same strategy. I have to assume because Bernie is young and hasn’t ever sat at this table with the expectation of running a race, he’s speaking from pure emotion right now.

I clear my throat, bringing Bernie’s attention back to me. “It’s not about setting you up to fail. It’s about getting the best result for the team, considering the circumstances. If you push too hard and lose tire life, you’re not going to get the result we need, and it’s crucial you get a top ten. We’ll make adjustments as the race progresses, but we need to start steady.”

“Whatever,” Bernie mutters petulantly, clearly not thrilled but not entirely resistant. “I’ll go with it for now.”

I turn to Matthieu. “You’ll be taking more risks in the beginning, but we’ll also adjust for tire wear. It’s not just about raw speed—it’s about strategy and making those moves at the right time.”

Matthieu gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, sure. As long as I’m not holding back while Bernie tiptoes around.”

“Fuck you,” Bernie growls, but I ignore it.

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