Chapter 21 – The Final
Sunday, May 3rd, 2009 – Morning | Apeldoorn Kart Circuit
The hotel room was quiet.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft lines across the ceiling. Alex lay still, listening to the silence — no alarm, no voices, no rush. Just breath.
He sat up slowly, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stretched his arms above his head. His body felt light. Not tired. Not nervous.
Just… ready.
A knock at the door. His father peeked in.
"Morning, champ," he said softly. "We've got breakfast downstairs."
Alex nodded. "I'll be down in a minute."
His race suit hung by the closet, clean and folded. The patches stitched into the chest felt more real now — not like decorations, but like something earned.
---
08:25 | Breakfast Room – Hotel
The small hotel dining area buzzed softly with morning chatter. A few other families were eating too — one boy still rubbing his eyes, another already in full gear.
Alex sat with his parents and Victor at a corner table. He ate quietly — bread, a bit of egg, some juice. Nothing heavy.
Victor scrolled through a sheet on his phone. "They just published the grid."
Alex looked up.
"You're on the front row," Victor said. "P2. Sven's on pole."
Alex gave a small nod.
He remembered that name. That race — the one where Sven had taken the win.
No tricks. Just speed.
09:12 | Apeldoorn Kart Circuit – Paddock
The paddock was already alive. Families moved like ants — helmets in hand, coolers dragged along the gravel. Flags flapped in the morning breeze.
Alex stepped out of the van, helmet bag slung over his shoulder, suit zipped to the top. Victor walked beside him, silent as usual.
A familiar voice called out.
"Alex!"
He turned.
Leo stood near the fence, his dad beside him, both grinning. Leo waved hard.
"You're gonna win this one," he shouted, no hesitation. "I feel it!"
Alex gave the smallest smile and lifted his hand. Just enough.
Victor glanced over. "Good to have friends," he said quietly. "Even better when they believe in you."
Alex didn't answer. But he agreed.
---
09:27 | Pre-grid Zone
The grid sheet was pinned to the wall near race control. Alex scanned it once more.
Final — Group B
Kart 3: Sven Bakker (P1)
Kart 7: Alex Vermeer (P2)
He folded his arms.
Sven stood a few meters away, speaking with his mechanic. When he turned and saw Alex, their eyes met. No words. No smiles. Just a look.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just… aware.
They both knew what this was.
Lap 1
The engines roared under a low sky.
Alex sat still in his kart on the front row — Kart 7. To his left, Kart 3: Sven. Calm. Focused. Hands on the wheel like they'd grown there.
The lights came on. One. Two. Three.
Silence.
They went out.
Both karts exploded off the line — even start. Alex stayed tight, tucking in behind Sven as the rest of the pack lunged forward behind them like a wave.
Turn 1 came fast and tight. Sven moved left to block. Alex didn't challenge. Not yet.
He braked smooth, held P2.
Through turn 2, he could feel the pace Sven was setting — fast, but clean. The gap was less than a kart length. Alex didn't push it. He matched every motion. Every corner.
Turn 4 — no space. Turn 5 — same. He tucked in and waited.
First lap: Sven leads. Alex right behind. The others already scrambling.
---
Lap 2
Victor's words echoed faintly in his mind:
"Control the start. Attack when it opens."
Alex watched Sven's line closely.
Turn 1: early apex. Too early? Maybe.
Turn 2: slightly deep on entry.
He could feel the kart grip better now — tires warming, chassis settling.
He tightened his exit through turn 3 and coasted closer, letting the slipstream drag him in.
Sven glanced sideways — just a flick. He knew Alex was there.
Turn 5 approached. No gap yet. But the pressure was building.
Behind them, he could hear chaos — engines fighting, a kart bouncing over a curb. But Alex didn't care.
This was a duel.
And he wasn't going anywhere.
---
Lap 3
The move didn't need planning. It just… happened.
Out of turn 1, Alex had more momentum. He stayed wide into 2 — not to overtake, but to widen his line.
Sven covered the inside anyway, defensive early.
That was the mistake.
Alex cut back.
Turn 3 arrived. He braked late. Not reckless — just perfectly late.
The gap was small, but it existed.
He dived in.
The karts came wheel to wheel. For half a second, time slowed.
Alex held the inside. Turn 4 gave him the advantage. He powered out first.
No contact. No dirt.
Just instinct.
Alex Vermeer — into the lead.
He didn't look back.
Lap 4
Clean air.
For the first time in the race, Alex saw nothing but the track ahead. No karts. No spray. No one to follow.
It felt… unreal.
He exhaled once, long and steady. Then he focused.
Turn 1 — he hit it clean.
Turn 2 — slightly wide.
Turn 3 — correction. Too much steering. He felt the rear wiggle for a moment.
Behind him, Sven was there. Right there. The engine note rising, rising. Pressing like a shadow.
Alex didn't panic. He narrowed his focus.
He reminded himself: Don't defend too early. Just drive.
He tightened his line through turn 6 and gained half a tenth. Small, but something.
---
Lap 5
The pressure was constant.
Every lap, every corner, Sven was there — never lunging, never backing off. Just close enough to force a mistake.
Alex felt it.
At turn 4, he turned in a fraction too early. The curb bounced him wide.
Turn 5 came faster than expected. He braked late — not dangerously, but late enough to feel the tires plead for grip.
He recovered. Barely.
At the next straight, he widened his elbows slightly, sitting taller. Not to defend — but to look confident. To show Sven nothing.
You're not getting past me. Not today.
---
Lap 6
It clicked.
Alex breathed deeper.
The kart settled. The rhythm returned. He braked smooth, turned in early where it counted, lifted where he used to push.
And something shifted.
He wasn't just surviving anymore. He was driving his race. His way.
Through turn 2, the rear end twitched — he caught it instinctively. Through 4, he took the perfect apex. Through 5 and 6, the lines felt clean again.
He opened the gap.
Not by much.
But enough to feel it.
For the first time in the race…
Sven was no longer in striking distance.
Lap 7
The kart danced.
Alex wasn't just driving — he was flowing. Turn after turn, the machine responded like an extension of him. Every movement was clean, every input natural.
He didn't glance back. He didn't need to.
He could feel the gap — not in sight, but in sensation. Less pressure. Less noise behind.
Sven was dropping back.
Through turn 5, Alex took the inside curb perfectly, the chassis landing flat on exit. His tires sang for a moment, then settled.
He allowed himself one small thought: This is mine. If I keep it clean… it's mine.
---
Lap 8
The track was warm now. Sticky. Fast.
Alex pushed — not recklessly, but with intent.
He knew where he could gain. He knew where he had to respect the limits.
At turn 2, his kart skated slightly under braking — just for a heartbeat. But he corrected with ease.
His hands were loose on the wheel. His posture steady.
Every lap before had been a chase.
Now, he was setting the pace.
From the fence, he caught a glimpse of Leo — jumping, shouting, a blur of movement.
Alex didn't wave. But he saw him.
And it mattered.
---
Lap 9
Behind him, the gap was nearly a second now.
He heard it in the quiet — the engine notes more distant, the tension lighter.
Sven was still pushing. But the kart no longer had the same bite. Maybe the tires were fading. Maybe the rhythm had cracked.
Alex didn't know.
And he didn't care.
He focused forward. Turn 6 was perfect. The rear stepped out a little, but he let it ride — trusting the slide, catching it late, smooth.
Six laps to go.
And this time… he wasn't defending.
He was leading.
Lap 10
The track opened before him like a ribbon — wide, fast, empty.
Alex hit every turn with confidence now.
Turn 1: full commitment.
Turn 2: smooth downshift, apex tight.
Turn 3: no corrections needed.
He wasn't pushing harder.
He was pushing smarter.
Behind him, the chaos had faded. The speakers still called names and times — a crash at the back, a battle for P5 — but none of it touched him.
He was alone at the front.
And he liked it.
Along the Fence – Turn 3
Leo was gripping the fence so tight his knuckles turned white.
"Did you see that?" he shouted over the engine roar. "He's flying! I told you he'd win this one!"
His father chuckled beside him, arms crossed, eyes tracking the kart that now led the field.
"He's not just fast," he said. "He's smart. Smooth. Like he's been doing this for years."
Leo nodded hard. "No one's catching him today."
Then, quieter: "I think he's gonna be someone."
His dad smiled, but didn't reply. He just kept watching — eyes narrowed, impressed.
Lap 11
Victor's voice echoed in memory:
"Winning isn't just about speed. It's about holding it when it counts."
Alex took turn 5 a little faster than planned.
Nothing major — just a touch wide.
But it brought a jolt of awareness. A reminder.
Stay sharp. Don't drift. Finish it.
He tightened his next corner. More precision. Less ego.
Out of turn 6, he felt the rear slide again. This time he caught it earlier. No drama.
He glanced ahead.
Only the chequered flag remained — still five laps away.
But close enough to taste.
Observer Platform – Turn 5
Three men stood behind the railing, clipboards in hand, jackets zipped tight despite the warm sun.
One leaned forward. "That's Vermeer, right? Number 7?"
The man next to him nodded, eyes scanning the track. "Yeah. From Arnhem. Rookie. No kart of his own until a few weeks ago."
The third scoffed. "You're kidding."
"Nope."
They watched as Alex entered turn 5 — later on the brakes than most, kart twitching slightly, then clean through the apex like it was drawn on rails.
"That was… sharp," one murmured.
The first man scribbled something on his sheet.
"Natural rhythm. No wasted movement. Reads the track well."
He paused. Then, quietly:
"He's not just reacting anymore. He's racing."
Lap 12
The tires whispered on the asphalt — warm but wearing.
Alex adjusted instinctively: gentler throttle, smoother entries. He wasn't saving tires. He was reading them.
No gap was ever big enough to relax. Not really.
But still… he was in control.
He caught another glimpse of the crowd — more noise now. Parents leaning forward. Flags waving. Leo jumping again.
He heard the speaker's voice rise as he crossed the line:
"Alex Vermeer — still leading with four laps to go!"
He didn't smile.
Not yet.
But it was getting harder to hide.
Spectator Zone – Near the Finish Line
Alex's mother clutched her coffee cup with both hands, barely noticing it had gone cold.
"He's really leading," she whispered.
Her husband nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the kart that now swept through turn 6, precise and fast. "And not just barely. He's controlling it."
They stood among the other parents, but the noise around them felt distant. It was just them and their son, dancing around the track like he belonged there.
"Do you think he knows?" she asked softly. "How good this looks?"
He smiled, just a little.
"He doesn't need to know. He just feels it."
Lap 13
The final stretch began.
Alex kept his rhythm — no overdriving, no celebration. Just focus. Just speed.
Turn 1: smooth.
Turn 2: tight.
Turn 3: a little slip — caught it, adjusted.
The gap behind held steady. Sven hadn't given up, but the fight was fading.
From the speakers, the commentator's voice rose over the engines:
> "Vermeer still leads — commanding performance from the youngster out of Arnhem!"
Alex didn't hear the words.
But he felt the energy — the pressure rising from the fences. Something was building.
---
Lap 14
His arms were starting to feel it now. Not pain — just weight. The kart had been perfect, but fifteen laps was a long time at this speed.
He kept breathing. Kept his eyes forward.
At turn 5, a gust of wind hit the front. He tucked low instinctively, holding his line.
The kart shifted — tiny correction. But it held.
He knew not to get ahead of himself. One mistake, and it would all unravel.
But deep down…
He knew he had it.
---
Lap 15 – Final Lap
The board came out — last lap.
The speaker boomed:
> "One more time around for Alex Vermeer — what a drive this has been!"
The crowd responded with cheers and claps. Flags waved. Parents leaned over the rails. Leo was jumping again, nearly falling off the barrier.
Alex blocked it all out.
Turn 2.
Turn 3.
Turn 4.
No risks. Just flow.
Through turn 6, he exhaled deep. The engine screamed down the final straight.
And then — the flag.
Chequered. Black and white. Waving.
Alex crossed the line, arms tight on the wheel, body shaking from focus.
He didn't raise his hands.
He didn't shout.
He just sat there.
Eyes wide.
Mouth slightly open.
Breathing hard.
He'd done it.
Post-Race – Paddock & Reaction
Alex pulled into the pit lane, slowed the kart, and let the engine die under him.
For a second, he didn't move.
His hands rested on the wheel. His helmet felt too warm. His chest was still rising fast.
Then Victor appeared beside him — calm as ever.
He reached down, tapped the side of the kart.
"Now that was a race."
Alex looked up, his visor still halfway down.
"Did I—?"
"You did."
Victor smiled. "You led from lap three to the end. That wasn't luck. That was earned."
Alex nodded slowly. Still no smile — just focus fading into relief.
Then the fence rattled.
"ALEX!"
Leo pushed through the side gate, half-running, half-tripping, his dad a few steps behind.
"You were insane!" Leo shouted, nearly knocking into him. "Like—seriously, I didn't even breathe the last five laps!"
Alex just blinked at him, eyes wide, until a grin finally broke through.
"Thanks."
His mom arrived next, arms out but hesitating. She knew not to smother him — not yet.
"You were brilliant," she whispered.
His dad stood beside her, hand on her shoulder, nodding proudly.
"Every turn. Nailed."
Victor gave them space, stepping back to let the moment happen.
Further down the paddock, Julian leaned on a rail, helmet under his arm, suit half-zipped down. His gaze never left Alex.
He didn't wave. Didn't frown.
Just watched.
And for the first time, he looked... curious.
Near the timing tower, one of the DRDA scouts closed his notebook.
"No questions left," he muttered.
The other smiled.
"Let's keep an eye on that one."