Pato, I cannot keep doing this

Fourth. Again we are discussing how close Pato O’Ward is to winning Indianapolis while somebody else gets the moment we wanted for him.

His fifth top-four finish in seven attempts, still without the win. [1] That is an excellent record if your job is producing a sensible career assessment. My job as a fan is apparently to keep feeding hope into a machine that turns it into a new form of irritation every May.

I do not want another reason to believe he can win it. I already believe that. That is why this is getting unbearable.

“His time will come” can get in the bin

Racing does not reserve a future result because the previous near-misses have been sufficiently moving. That comforting line is precisely what makes me nervous. A driver can deserve the opportunity, find the opportunity, and watch it disappear anyway.

The repetition changes how you see the next chance. You start carrying the old races into the new one. Every opening feels loaded with the possibility that this is finally the version where the ending stops being cruel.

That is not a recap problem. You cannot fix it by walking me through the order of the pit stops again. I know how the race ended. I am objecting to the universe’s continued commitment to the bit.

Rosenqvist made it impossible to look away

That final outside-line commitment, the fight with Armstrong and the run at Malukas: Rosenqvist made the last lap something you could feel in your shoulders. [2] The margin was 0.0233 seconds. [1]

I did not want his victory more than Pato’s. But that is exactly the kind of act that makes the race worth losing your mind over. No time to arrange a prettier opportunity. The existing one is disappearing under the car.

And then there is Malukas, with the result almost within reach and gone at the line. I can want Penske beaten and still recognize the absolute brutality of that instant. The team rivalry does not make the driver made of cardboard.

The ugliest part of a finish like that is how quickly everyone has to become a public person again. Helmet off, camera there, explain the thing you have barely had time to feel. The audience wants an answer while the driver is still living inside the last few seconds.

I want the inconvenient, unreasonable payoff

I want Pato’s name attached to the win. I want the buildup to end in something other than another beautiful argument for why he could have done it.

That does not make the other results illegitimate. It makes them deeply inconvenient to what I am doing here, which is caring far too much about the orange car.

Next May will sell me the possibility again. I know exactly how vulnerable I am to it. For fuck’s sake, Pato. Let this eventually be a story we get to finish differently.