The Australian Grand Prix joined the Formula One calendar in 1985.
For its first decade, it was held in Adelaide as the season finale. From 1996 onward, the race moved to Melbourne, unfolding around Albert Park, and more often than not became the opening round of the season.
The beginning and the end of a championship always carry symbolic weight. That was why cities fought fiercely for the honor of hosting the season opener.
Bahrain. Malaysia. Both had pushed hard, even briefly securing the opening slot. Yet Australia, with its seasonal advantage, passionate fans, and the enduring charm of Albert Park, ultimately held onto the position. Over time, it became tradition. Something engraved into the bones of Formula One.
Many legends had made their F1 debuts here.
Hamilton. Verstappen. Alonso. Räikkönen. Mark Webber.
This year was no exception.
Kai and Charles Leclerc would both take their first official Formula One start here. Albert Park once again stood as a witness to history, drawing countless eyes.
Early in the morning, rose-gold light spilled through a cloudless blue sky. Fans who had arrived before dawn were already in position. Heat simmered beneath the surface, ready to erupt as the new season prepared to roar to life.
Four months of waiting. Winter testing. Endless speculation.
Anticipation could no longer be contained.
Especially for Australian fans.
F1 had raced here for more than thirty years, yet not a single local driver had ever stood on the podium at home.
Winning was a distant dream.
But this year felt different.
Daniel Ricciardo. Perth-born. Red Bull's lead driver.
The hope of an entire nation.
Car and driver were ready. Albert Park awaited a breakthrough victory to kick off the 2018 season and launch a championship campaign.
The crowd stirred.
"Daniel?"
"Is that him?"
Whispers rippled outward. People stretched on tiptoe, craning their necks toward the horizon. Hearts thudded wildly, just imagining their hometown hero.
Then a figure appeared.
White T-shirt. Red windbreaker. Denim shorts. A backward cap. Red-and-black high-top sneakers.
A black skateboard hit the ground and rolled forward.
Loose. Free. Unrestrained.
Youth surged through the golden morning light, cutting cleanly through the sea of people. Even in the chaos, that figure drew every eye.
In the paddock, drivers often rode scooters.
Almost no one used a skateboard.
Too hard to control. Too risky in dense crowds.
Yet this figure flowed effortlessly through the masses. Everyone else seemed frozen as the skateboard cut through space.
Instant brilliance.
Excitement swelled. Fans who could not see clearly screamed anyway, setting the atmosphere ablaze.
"Daniel!"
They thought it was Ricciardo.
The shout spread like wildfire.
But the skater did not stop. Wind chased him forward.
Then a voice cut through.
"Kai!"
Like a thunderclap.
A small pocket of fans exploded with energy, waving Chinese flags and Ferrari caps. Their cheers surged hard enough to overpower the home crowd.
The skater turned instinctively.
Sunlight froze the moment.
Cameras snapped.
For those seeing Kai in person for the first time, the difference was overwhelming. The flat image from photos suddenly became vivid and alive. Bright. Bold. Magnetic.
Even Ricciardo's supporters were momentarily stunned.
Kai braked and looked over, surprised.
Silverstone had given him a taste of attention. Monza had amplified it under Ferrari's banner.
But Melbourne?
He never expected to be recognized here.
Walking closer, he saw familiar faces. Asian faces. Smiling.
"I live in Melbourne."
"I flew in from Perth."
"Welcome to Australia."
Mandarin closed the distance instantly.
Only then did Kai remember how many overseas Chinese lived here. They had come specifically for him.
Warmth settled in his chest.
"Thank you," Kai said sincerely. "I thought I'd be fighting alone."
"You're never alone," someone called out. "Wherever you race, we stand with you."
Before the emotion could settle, it broke again.
"Kai!"
A girl covered her mouth, screaming, crying, trembling in place. Tears streamed down her face, yet she could not stop smiling.
Kai paused.
He did not know her story, but he understood the weight behind it. Studying abroad. Working overseas. Struggling quietly.
He stepped forward and gave her a brief, careful hug.
"Keep going," he said softly.
She broke down completely.
Then the noise surged again.
This time, even louder.
Kai turned.
Daniel Ricciardo stood there, grinning from ear to ear.
Red Bull driver. Car number three. Famous for his smile.
In Chinese fan circles, he was nicknamed Big Teeth.
Ricciardo noticed the Chinese fans and began conducting the crowd like a maestro.
"Louder!"
"Come on, Melbourne. Let me hear you!"
The grin was unmistakable.
Seeing Kai turn, Ricciardo stepped forward, then abruptly stopped and clutched his chest.
"Wait. I can't get close to you, right?"
Kai blinked.
"Netflix," Ricciardo said, gesturing to the camera crew surrounding him. "They don't let me appear with you, yeah?"
It was a joke. Netflix restrictions did not extend that far.
Kai played along, smiling.
"Who knows? You can guess."
He turned away, waved to the fans, and rolled off on his skateboard.
Ricciardo stared after him.
"Did he just ignore me?"
Then he yelled,
"Are you ignoring me?"
He clenched his fists and growled theatrically like the Hulk.
Laughter erupted.
Classic Ricciardo.
Kai had expected media pressure.
But the reality still made him pause.
Over two hundred reporters crowded the mixed zone. Cameras packed so tightly the air felt compressed.
Bottas. Gasly. Hülkenberg.
The moment Kai appeared, they were abandoned.
The swarm rushed him.
Netflix cameras followed instinctively.
Even veterans like Martin Brundle could not recall a scene like this.
Kai stopped. Picked up his board. Walked calmly into the storm.
A microphone thrust forward.
"Do you think you can score points in your first race?"
A deliberate insult.
Ferrari aiming for championships, reduced to points.
Kai laughed.
Bright. Relaxed.
"You've seen Inception, right? If you're going to dream, dream big."
"A year ago, I never imagined standing here. So why not be a little wild?"
A pause.
"Podium?" someone asked.
Kai smiled.
"You're adorable."
Oxygen vanished.
Another question followed. Records. Verstappen. Hamilton.
Kai shrugged.
"No expectations. I just want to race. And my mom wants me to come home safe."
Laughter rippled.
Then he added casually,
"Oh, Charles told me no driver has ever started their career at Ferrari and won a title. I think everything needs a first time."
Silence.
The reporters froze.
They had wanted provocation.
They got it.
Someone finally asked,
"Is there a driver you admire?"
Kai answered calmly.
"I don't really watch F1. My knowledge stops at Schumacher."
Shock spread.
"And Verstappen?"
"I don't know him."
Gasly nearly choked laughing afterward.
Kai left.
Behind him, the questions exploded too late.
He did not look back.
Outside the chaos, Lorenzo Moretti waited.
"They're just jealous," Lorenzo said, smiling.
Hawaiian shirt. Sunglasses. Perfect timing.
"Baby driver debut," Lorenzo added. "How could I miss it?"
They laughed.
Pressure faded.
Albert Park was waking.
The season was beginning.
And Kai was ready.