Maranello is a small town in the northern Italian plains, a dot on the map. It would be anonymous, if not for one thing: Ferrari.
Enzo Ferrari moved his operation here decades ago, and since then, the town's identity has been forged in Rosso Corsa red. While most Formula One teams cluster their headquarters in the UK's 'Motorsport Valley,' Ferrari remains an exception. Its heart—the F1 team, the road car factory, the museum, and the Driver Academy—beats only here.
For Konrad Schäfer, the immediate problem was travel.
The race in Rome had ended after midnight. The test in Maranello was at 9:00 AM. The distance was over four hundred kilometers. A four-hour drive, minimum, on Italian roads.
It was a test in itself. Not of speed, but of resourcefulness and resolve.
Todt, no doubt, had flown back on a private plane, slept in a proper bed, and would arrive at the circuit refreshed. He was a man who could afford to buy time.
Konrad had to earn it. He saw the unspoken challenge: How badly do you want this? Showing up sleep-deprived and ragged would be a mark against him before he even sat in a car. But not showing up at all was a definitive failure. The eight-thousand-euro fee was a safety net, but accepting it without a real effort would brand him as someone who lacked the hunger Todt was looking for.
While Konrad was still on the road, wrestling with fatigue and navigation, Jean Todt was already in Maranello.
The early morning mist clung to the low, unassuming buildings. The town was quiet, its reverence for Ferrari shown not in garish displays, but in the subtle, ever-present prancing horse logos on shop fronts and street signs.
Sergio Marchionne, Ferrari's CEO, looked up from his desk, surprised to see his old friend. Todt's office was on the same floor as the engineering department, a deliberate choice that kept him connected to the core of the operation.
"I thought you had a meeting in Paris today," Marchionne said, rising to close the office door. The gesture signaled the need for privacy.
"I did," Todt replied, his voice calm. He took a seat. "I moved it. I'll fly out after we're done here."
Marchionne's expression grew serious. "What's happened?"
"Nothing has happened. Yet." Todt leaned forward slightly, his posture intent. "It's about our discussion yesterday. I may have found a potential solution."
That got Marchionne's full attention. The Ferrari Driver Academy was a persistent concern. While rivals like Red Bull and Mercedes were churning out formidable young drivers, Ferrari's academy had failed to produce a single graduate for its own F1 team. They were stuck in a cycle of hiring expensive, established veterans, a strategy that had not returned them to the championship since 2008.
They needed a new approach. A long-term investment. But yesterday's brainstorming had yielded no concrete answers.
"An inspiration?" Marchionne prompted, his skepticism clear. Inspirations were cheap; results were not.
"I saw a driver last night," Todt began, his words measured. "In an underground race in Rome. He was driving a modified Mini Cooper against a Shelby Mustang."
Marchionne raised an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline.
"He won," Todt stated flatly. "Not by horsepower. By calculation. He used the Mini's agility and the Mustang's weight against it. He is a sim-racer and a mechanic. He understands cars from the inside out."
Todt paused, letting the profile of the driver sink in. "The current academy drivers are polished. They are fast on a perfect lap. But they lack a certain... ruthlessness. The instinct to win when the conditions are not in their favor."
"And you think this street racer has it?" Marchionne's tone was cautious. "You want to bring a… hobbyist into the Ferrari Driver Academy?"
"I am proposing we introduce a catalyst," Todt corrected. "The 'catfish effect.' Throw a predator into the pond. See if it makes the other fish swim faster."
He met Marchionne's gaze squarely. "This is a calculated risk. His technique is unrefined. His background is a liability. But his racecraft, his adaptability… that is a raw material we have not seen in a long time. I am not asking you to make him the future of Ferrari. I am asking you to let him try out. To see if his presence can sharpen the others. To see if, against all odds, that raw talent can be forged into something usable."
Todt leaned back. "It is a long shot. An Arabian Nights' tale, as you might say. But sometimes, the most logical solution is to try something illogical."