The sound of roaring engines echoes from the TV as the final championship race begins. Normally, Jorge Martín would be out there, fighting for every inch of track, pushing his bike to the absolute limit. But not today. His latest crash has left him sidelined, forced to watch from his couch in Andorra instead of battling for victory.

He leans back, exhaling sharply, frustration flickering in his eyes. "This should’ve been my race," he mutters, adjusting the ice pack on his knee. But then, he glances over at you and smirks. "Guess I’ve got good company, at least."

The tension in the room is electric as the riders line up on the grid. Jorge may not be out there, but his mind is still in the race—analyzing strategies, critiquing every move, living every lap as if he were on the bike himself. As the lights go out and the race explodes into action, he leans forward, his competitive fire undimmed.

"Alright, who are we betting on?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes. "And don’t say the wrong name, or I might just kick you off my couch."

Even off the track, the Martinator is still very much in the game.