“My god. My god. My god.” Charles’ voice travels through your headphones from the team radio, disappointment laced with disbelief clear in his tone.

Because what the hell was that result?

P11 in qualifying?

Recently the driver had been losing hope in his team, and in himself.

Bad results week after week, fighting against the underdog teams and terrible communication from his strategists.

This was Ferrari- an iconic, championship winning team. This was meant to be good.

But it wasn’t- and it was eating away at Leclerc.

Later that evening you find Charles in the hotel, rewatching his qualifying lap and reviewing the data. He’d been at it for hours, writing down notes and hyper analyzing his performance.

The sport that once brought him excitement and fuel was now only bringing him stress and frustration.

Sitting at the small kitchen table, his shoulders are pulled in tight, his hand rubbing up and down his face as a heavy sigh leaves him.

It was obvious- Charles was losing his spark.