Blind Devotion

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Summary: He won’t fail again

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
CHARACTER: Chad Knaus, Chad POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #38 (#13 for me) - Abacus
COMPLETED: April 12, 2007
WORD COUNT: 1,054
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
DEDICATION: This is a birthday present for Manda. Sorry it’s late hun but damn, I didn’t even know I had this muse! I blame you. Now take him back!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first foray into the mind of a crew chief and I hope I did him justice. It takes place directly after the Martinsville race April 1, 2007 where Jimmie blatantly blocked the ever living hell out of Jeff and cost him the win after using the 24 setup when the 48’s was very off in practice.
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24/48 Shop Hendrick Motorsports , April 2nd, 2007 - 2:48am

I don’t understand it.  I just…don’t understand.

I don’t see how I could have completely missed the setup two weeks in a row.  Blindly reach for my red bull and take a long drink as my eyes never leave my meticulous notes.  It doesn’t make any sense.  I’ve been preparing for these Car of Tomorrow races for almost two years.  I couldn’t have been so off.  Not me.  Not now.  Not when I have a Champion who needs to prove his worth once again.

I shake my head as I scan the perfectly aligned stacks of paper, each one completely parallel with the edge of the desk, all spaced the same distance apart.  Order is necessary for what I do.  It’s essential to be the best, and I can’t understand how I of all people could have screwed up so badly.  It didn’t matter what I tried this weekend I couldn’t get the car right.  Hell, if it weren’t for Stevie, Jimmie wouldn’t have even had a chance to stay on the lead lap…much less take the checker for the third time this season.  Stevie and Jeff completely pulled our asses out of the fire by sharing their setup and that’s great.

But that’s not going to happen again.

I lean back in my chair and open the top drawer at my side to pull out my pack of cigarettes.  Slide one from the pack and light it before returning the pack to its precise location in the drawer.  Then I take a deep drag and try to focus, try to find my bearings again. 

We’re all supposed to be a team here at Hendrick Motorsports.  That’s what we tell the world.  Four teams under one banner, sharing all information to make the entire organization great.  But that’s just the company line…at least for me.  Ash the cigarette into the concealed ashtray in my drawer and run my eyes over the stacks of papers again.  No one sees, hell, no one touches my notes without my permission.  And though I do share information with the other crew chiefs…I never share it all.

That’s just…complete insanity.

My loyalty, my allegiance, is to one team, one driver alone.  My dedication is to the 48 car and Jimmie and to pretend anything different is just stupid.  Our biggest competition is in house.  How could I not hold some back for us?  I’m just glad Letarte doesn’t seem to have the same feelings about the 24.  It sure saved out ass this weekend.  But knowing Gordon, and knowing how he hates to lose…I have a feeling things could change.  That’s why I have to figure out what I missed.

Crush out the cigarette and slide the drawer closed as I look over my calculations again.  Notes for everything, all organized meticulously in a manner that only I completely understand.  Stacks of papers on shocks, springs, manifolds, things that still transfer over to the CoT car are organized on one side.  Then over to my right, the things that are now obsolete; spoilers, coil binding, so much that I was that class of the field with.  But now I have to focus on the papers directly in front of me.  Notes on wings, splitters and cable fuel lines that don’t even belong on a stock car, but that are now our future.

I have to figure it all out.

Reach for my can of Red Bull again and down the rest of it before tossing it into the trash can at my side, watching as it joins the paper cup that contained the sweet, fancy coffee Jimmie brought me earlier.  He knew I’d be here.  He really does know me too well.  What other idiot would be in the office at two something in the morning after a grueling race weekend.  Hell, I didn’t even go home, just came straight here from the track…just like he knew I would.

I look up and see him passed out on the couch, long legs hanging off the end and arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light.  He’s leaving for the Caribbean tomorrow, I think.  Getting away from it all for a few days with the off weekend coming up, but still he came to find me knowing I wouldn’t have even eaten.  The bags of takeout on the floor beside him is a testament to how he looks out for me…just like I look out for him.

I will do anything to make sure he has the right car underneath him.  He’s my driver and no one else in the garage matters to me.  Sure I care about HMS and the other teams, but Jimmie is my priority.  He is my Champion and if I have my way we will eclipse even the legendary partnership of Gordon and Evernham.  We will be the best.  We are the best.  I just have to make sure we stay that way.

Rub at my eyes, trying to keep the sleep away as I attempt to focus again, trying to find out what I missed that Stevie understood so easily and the strangest thought crosses my mind.  I wonder how many others have been so dedicated, so committed to speed and perfection.  How long have there been partnerships like mine and Jimmie, a man behind the driver striving to be of one mind to achieve success?  Is this a recent thing, or could there have been some obsessed fool like me a millennia ago with hand written notes instead of printouts and an abacus instead of calculator, killing his eyes by the light of a lamp to find what he did wrong?  I mean…wouldn’t even the Roman chariots drivers need someone behind the scenes to make them better and faster than the next guy?

Stifle a yawn and I know I’m losing it, losing my edge.  I need some more caffeine, maybe another energy drink or a coffee because I can’t quit now.  I can’t quit until I find that perfection that I know is just out of reach.  Raise my eyes to look at Jimmie again and in an instant I know.

I won’t fail him again.  I will find the answer and we will succeed.

Of that I have no doubt.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com