Chapter 2: Practice and Pressure
The following Saturday arrived with quiet excitement.
Back in Arnhem, the morning air was crisp. Alex woke before his parents did. He had been thinking about the track in Duiven all week, replaying every corner, every bump in the asphalt. This time, he packed his gear with care: gloves, water, clean clothes — and a folded paper with notes from Victor, the coach they met last time.
At breakfast, his parents noticed something in his eyes. Focused, calm, but alert.
Leo and his dad picked them up again. The drive felt shorter this time. Alex sat quietly in the back seat, watching the road.
"You think that coach guy is coming today?" Leo asked.
Alex nodded. "He said so."
The kart center looked the same, but something inside Alex had shifted. The nerves were still there — they always were — but now they came with a strange kind of purpose.
At the front desk, the lady handed Willem the schedule.
"Practice and a short qualifying today," she explained. "We've split the kids into groups. Your son is in Group B. He'll go after the first session."
Alex glanced at the sheet. His name was listed near the bottom. But one other name stood out: Julian.
He didn't know him. But the name stuck.
Victor de Bruin stood quietly near the trackside, talking with a staff member. He nodded in their direction when he saw Alex, then turned back.
Beside him was a boy, adjusting his gloves, walking the edge of the pit lane with calm confidence. He didn't look over. Alex stared, uncertain for a moment, then turned his attention back to his kart.
They hadn't spoken. They didn't need to.
Alex suited up and listened carefully during the briefing. The staff explained the order: one practice session to warm up, then each driver would do a single timed lap — a flying lap — to see where they stood.
He found his kart, number 12. It looked the same as last time. That made him feel more at ease.
Leo gave him a thumbs-up from the side. "Do your best. Doesn't have to be perfect."
"I know," Alex said softly.
He didn't speak much, but he understood everything.
Practice started. Alex eased onto the track, heart steady. The first few corners were cautious, but by the third lap, he was smoother. He remembered Victor's notes: later braking, stay tighter on the line, let the kart roll more through the apex.
He tried.
Julian passed him once — fast and quiet. Clean.
But Alex stayed focused. He didn't chase, didn't panic. He kept learning. Each lap taught him something new. He tried different lines, tested when to lift, when to brake.
He spun once, halfway through the session — a back wheel hit a bump and threw him wide into the tire wall. No damage, just a scare. A marshal gave him a thumbs-up, and he rejoined the track.
From the top floor, Victor watched with a clipboard in hand, quietly taking notes. Behind him, Alex' parents were in gesprek.
"Do you really think we should let him keep going with this?" Miriam asked softly.
Willem hesitated. "He's never been this focused before."
"But what if it's too much? He's only six."
"He's not just having fun. He's learning. He wants this."
Victor caught the tail end of their words and turned slightly.
"You're wondering whether to pull him back," he said, voice calm.
They nodded.
Victor looked out over the track. "You wouldn't be the first. But if you're waiting for him to grow out of this, I don't think he will. And that's not a bad thing."
"He just gets so… into it," Miriam said quietly. "He barely talks about anything else."
"Then maybe that's the language he's most fluent in," Victor said. "Not every kid speaks the world's way."
Willem looked at him. "Is it common, that focus?"
Victor nodded. "Sometimes. Kids like Alex… they don't follow all the social rules. But they see things — patterns, timing. It can become a strength."
After the session ended, Alex returned to the paddock. He drank slowly from his water bottle and sat near Leo, catching his breath.
Victor approached them, clipboard in hand.
"You felt the difference?" he asked.
Alex nodded. "A little. I tried to brake later."
"And?"
"Sometimes it worked. Sometimes not."
Victor gave him a small nod.
"That's the start of progress. Now — qualifying."
Julian was first up. His lap was sharp — efficient, confident. A staff member called out his time: 48.3 seconds.
Alex was next. He climbed into his kart, breathing slowly. He closed his eyes for a second, then tightened his gloves.
Willem leaned over. "No pressure. Just drive it like you know how."
Alex nodded.
He rolled out onto the track.First corner — too cautious.Second — a bit better.He remembered Victor's notes. Brake later. Look further. Relax your grip.
Halfway through the lap, something clicked. He flowed through the next section, smoother, cleaner. The final corner came — he held it wide, then cut in sharply.
He crossed the line.
Back in the pit, he removed his helmet, cheeks flushed.
Victor met him by the side.
"50.1," he said.
Alex looked down.
"Not bad," Victor added. "You didn't freeze. You corrected mid-lap. That's a skill some older kids don't have."
Alex nodded, quietly proud but still burning to improve.
Victor handed him another paper. "Notes. Next week, same time?"
"Yeah."
As they walked to the car, Willem said softly, "We're not pulling him back, are we?"
Miriam shook her head. "No. He needs this."
That night, Alex lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.He wasn't the fastest.But maybe he could be.If he worked harder.If he learned faster.
He closed his eyes, already racing in his mind.