Chapter 15: Scouted
Chapter 15:Scouted
Monday, March 23rd, 2009
Victor stood in the paddock long after the final race had ended. The crowd had mostly cleared out. Engines were silent now, the smell of fuel and burnt rubber slowly fading into the damp spring air. He watched as Alex walked toward his parents, second-place trophy under one arm. His expression was calm, but his eyes flicked back toward the track more than once.
Behind Victor, two men approached. They weren't part of the usual racing crowd—no grease under the nails, no headset or clipboard. One wore a lightweight jacket with a small DRDA logo on the chest: Dutch Race Driver Academy. The other held a notebook.
"That the boy?" one asked, nodding toward Alex.
Victor didn't turn. "That's him."
"He's sharp. Reads the track better than most kids his age."
"Only his third race," Victor replied. "But he learns fast. And he listens."
The man in the DRDA jacket crossed his arms. "We're scouting young drivers for early development support. Not sponsorship yet. Just keeping tabs on who's got potential."
Victor finally turned to face them. "He trains with us at KWM Racing Academy, Lelystad."
"So, you're the instructor?"
"One of them," Victor said. "And he's not ready for pressure. Not yet."
"We're not offering anything. Just observing. When the time is right, maybe we help take the next step."
Victor gave a short nod. "Then keep watching."
---
Later that afternoon, Alex was packing up his gear when Victor approached.
"Good race," he said, nodding toward the trophy. "You held your ground, even when Sven went aggressive."
Alex looked up. "I thought about trying again in the last corner, but... it didn't feel right."
Victor smiled slightly. "That's racing. Knowing when to go, and when to wait. You didn't win, but you earned respect today. From them, and from yourself."
Alex hesitated, then asked, "Was it good enough? Like... really good?"
Victor raised an eyebrow. "You're not racing to impress me. But yes. You were smart. You stayed clean. And you didn't fold under pressure. That's what counts."
Alex gave a slow nod. "I felt that."
Victor rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Go home. Rest. You've got what you need now."
As Victor turned to leave, he paused. He almost mentioned the DRDA. Almost. But not yet.
---
That evening, while Alex was getting ready for bed, his parents sat on the couch in the living room, both holding mugs of cooling tea.
"He really loves this," Miriam said softly.
Willem nodded. "Yeah. But it's getting more serious. We can't just wing it anymore. There's travel, tires, entry fees…"
"And school," Miriam added. "He's handling it, but we're stretching ourselves thin."
Willem looked at her. "Do we keep going?"
She smiled. "As long as he keeps smiling like that—yeah, I think we do."
---
Tuesday, March 24th – DRDA Office, Zandvoort
A modest meeting room overlooked a practice area where two juniors were doing race simulations. On a large screen, footage of Alex's last race looped silently.
"So that's the kid?" one of the senior advisors asked.
"Alex Vermeer," the scout replied. "Six years old. Dutch. Three official races. Two wins. One second place. Enough points to qualify for the Gelderland regional championship."
"KWM Racing Academy, you said?"
"Yes. Out of Lelystad. Structured training. Not just a kart dad operation."
The advisor leaned forward, studying a freeze-frame of Alex's switchback overtake from Turn 8.
"Good instincts," he muttered. "Confidence without recklessness."
Another advisor in the room wasn't so sure. "He's still raw. Bit hesitant in traffic."
"True," the scout said. "But he adjusts fast. Watch this—Lap 5." He clicked forward to the moment Alex took the lead.
"Hmm. That's a sharp move. No panic, even under pressure."
"Let's keep an eye on him. Don't reach out yet. But let the academy know we're watching."
"Already did."
---
That evening, Victor sat on the balcony of his apartment in Lelystad, the air cool against his arms. His phone buzzed with a message from the KWM office:
DRDA showed interest. No action required yet. Just eyes open.
He stared at the screen for a while before locking it and setting it down. He knew how fast things could move in motorsport. Especially when a kid like Alex showed up and started winning.
He also knew what it would take to keep him grounded.
He looked out over the quiet city.
"Am I ready for this?" he asked himself softly.
---
Wednesday, March 25th – Primary School, Arnhem
The classroom buzzed with quiet energy as the teacher handed back the last of the math tests. Alex glanced at his page.
7.4.
Not bad. Not amazing. But solid. Normal.
He exhaled through his nose, relieved. The past weeks had been hard—early mornings, travel, weekends full of karts. But now the rhythm was settling in.
He still got distracted sometimes, thinking about racing. But his focus was returning.
During gym class, they played dodgeball. He moved fast, reacting instinctively. A classmate laughed, "You move like a ninja, Vermeer!"
After class, his teacher smiled as she passed him in the hallway. "Good to see you back on track, Alex."
He smiled back. Not because he had aced the test. But because he felt like himself again.
Not just a kid who raced.
But a kid who could balance it.
That afternoon at home, while his mom made dinner, he sat at the kitchen table finishing his reading homework without needing a reminder.
School and racing.
Dreams and normal days.
And for now, that was enough.
---
Wednesday Evening – Vermeer Household
Just before dinner, an email notification pinged on Willem's phone. He opened it while stirring the pasta.
Subject: KWM Racing Academy – Regional Tournament Preparation
"Dear Vermeer family,
Congratulations on Alex's qualification for the regional tournament. We would like to invite you to an upcoming information session regarding the training program and further support from our academy. More details will follow shortly.
Kind regards,
Team KWM Lelystad."
Willem showed the phone to Miriam. She grinned.
"It's happening," she said.
"Yeah," Willem replied. "And it's moving fast."
In the background, Alex's voice drifted in from the hallway. He was humming softly, dragging his backpack to the dinner table.
Unaware of what tomorrow might bring.
But ready for it anyway.