Dear Lewis Hamilton,

So, are you already on a jet heading to Monza? Or are you making a pit stop at home (I realize while typing that this is quite a lame pun in a letter to you, but that wasn't the intention and I find it a bit much to change it for that reason)?

I didn't see you, but I did hear you. And I noticed you were there. I live near Zandvoort, you should know, and suddenly I couldn't go to our favorite ice cream parlor anymore. Even schools were closed because they were completely unreachable due to the Formula 1 chaos. There was protest, but I was flying the flag. A black and white checkered one and one from the Netherlands. You should know that my beloved was already watching the Formula 1 with his sister and father on a blanket in the dunes. And now, 36 years later, the circus was back. I heard helicopters above my backyard and with a bit of luck, I heard you accelerating. You were already on the front page of the biggest newspaper in our country on Friday. Because although we are naturally Team Max, you are a superstar. And the fact that you had arrived in our little Zandvoort did not go unnoticed.

I eventually watched with my love on our phone at the beach. Occasionally we cursed because the connection would drop. I suspect we weren't the only ones livestreaming. I saw you growling and fighting and listened to your tire strategy. Sorry, but I really wore out your medium tires watching.

The rest is history, in our case really history, but what I want to talk about is your speech. About Max. How well he had raced, how hard you had tried to win, but that it didn't work out. No cowardly talk of: ‘I gave him his Zandvoort’, no, you went for it hard and he turned out to be the strongest. And then you talked about Zandvoort. About the circuit, but especially about the audience that you found exceptionally enthusiastic and nice and that Zandvoort is already one of your favorite circuits. And with that, you are my favorite runner-up. Because no matter how fun and handsome and well-dressed I think you are, I still prefer to see you on that one step lower.

Oh, and Lewis, I don't want to ruin your whole dream, but that nice weather this weekend is a bit of a lucky case. Dutch weather is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you’re gonna get.