I’ve seen Jayne’s grid walks in F1, where the cars are lined up in the positions they’ll start the race in. The area is electric with activity and packed with people. Whenever I see Jayne do her walk fifteen minutes before the race, she’s literally squeezing her way through the crowd, her cameraperson often struggling to keep up with her. She’s interviewing celebrities who come out in droves for F1 races. Catching the drivers as they make their way to their cars. Stopping a team principal to get thoughts on the race ahead.
I smile wryly. F2 isn’t like that.
The grid is sparse, with mostly crew. There are no celebrities or VIPs to interview. I could have done cartwheels down the grid, I had that much room.
This was purely an assignment to see if I could make it work. If it failed, no big deal, they’d just chalk it up to an experiment for F2 and never do it again.
But I busted my ass to provide decent content.
I kept my energy level up the entire time, trying to build excitement for the race. I was able to get drivers easier than I would on an F1 grid, so I made the most of that. Because I had done so much homework this week, I was able to make my one or two questions to them good ones. Team principals were great to talk with, and I did my own commentary on what I saw going on with the cars, the sprint race the day before, and even the weather.
I made damn sure I showed them I could pull stuff out of the air—or more like my head—if needed. And I think I succeeded.
I wrap up my conversation with Thomas, and Jay, the cameraman who worked with me today, smiles at me. “You really did do a great job.”
My chest grows warm with happiness from the compliments I’ve received.
“Thank you. I covered a lot of live events when I was in college and for Total Access Total Sports, and I think it helped me learn to think on my feet. But trust me, some of my first outings were rough.”
I remember the time I tripped on a cable at a college soccer game and fell face first into the turf. When I stood up, I had grass on my forehead.
Hmm. It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t do cartwheels on the grid.
A new horrifying thought hits me.
Crap. I will have to survive that coming back up online again as people become aware of me and begin to search my name.
Thanks, Google.
“You and me both,” Jay says, laughing. “My first few times behind the camera were terrible. I was afraid I’d never get hired again.”
“Luckily we got better.”
We meet up with the audio person and I take off my equipment and hand him back my mic.
“Thanks,” Shawn says.
We part ways, as they have more assignments to shoot today, and I’ve completed all my work for this weekend. I return to the media center, where I’ve left my belongings, and grab a cup of coffee before sitting down at a table. I dig my phone out of my tote, and to my surprise, I see I have a text from Caleb:
Nice work on the grid.
I suck in an excited breath. Caleb made a point to watch melive.Talk about another butterfly-inducing moment.
But I need to play this right, so I respond in a way I know he would like:
Don’t you have a race to prepare for?
Caleb Collings is typing …
I’m at the track. And I made time to watch you on the grid.
SWOONNNNNNNNING.
He sends another text:
You were brilliant, Isla. You would never know that was your first one.
I feel a giddy smile spread over my face. I take a second to compose myself, then respond: