Can I Kick It? | Kassir's F1 Career
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 6164
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
The Future Starts Here.
Excellent showing in that one. Interesting dynamic between Noura and Zak though
-
Agent
Topic author - Posts: 11173
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
The Future Starts Here.
well he's racing like shit so I might as well make him an assCaptain Canada wrote: ↑20 Aug 2025, 09:59Excellent showing in that one. Interesting dynamic between Noura and Zak though
-
Agent
Topic author - Posts: 11173
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
The Future Starts Here.
The Equation of Rivals in Monaco.
The air in the ART garage at Monte-Carlo was heavy & thick enough that no one wanted to break it. Mechanics leaned against toolboxes & engineers hunched over laptops that were already closed.
Noura Kassir sat on a folding chair near the wall, helmet resting in her lap. Her hands still trembled faintly from the adrenaline. Everyone had done their runs. Every lap time had been set. Now it was in the hands of timing screens.
She wanted to look at her phone. She wanted to look at something. But all she saw was the collective tension on the faces around her. ART, a room of fighters, waiting to see if today would be survival or disaster.
And then the screen on the far wall flickered. Data began to cascade.
The room held its breath.
Noura Kassir - P8.
The first number landed like thunder. The garage erupted in excitement. Mechanics clapped hands against each other’s backs, engineers shouted, & a few of the junior staff began to chant her name as if she had won the race alraedy. For Noura though, it was relief. Joy.
But the room hadn’t finished reading. Eyes darted back to the screen as it scrolled down. Names, numbers, positions. When it landed on P6, the explosion of noise shifted.
Zak O’Sullivan.
The loudest voice in the room was his own. He shouted, fists pumping, his helmet nearly tumbling off the counter where he’d left it. He was electric, almost manic, & drowned out the celebration of those just moments before.
Noura forced herself to stay present. She could feel the contrast of her quiet, overwhelmed joy against Zak’s furious pride.
It wasn’t just that he’d qualified higher. Noura has always put her teammates first. It was that he knew the ART garage would feel it. That she would hear it.
It was only a matter of time before it happened: the clash of two rising stars, teammates bound by colors but divided by everything else.
Noura closed her eyes, took a deep breathe, & swallowed her pride as she returned to speak with everyone in the ART garage. If ART is going to score points in Monte-Carlo, they'll have to capitalize on these placements. Even if it means sacrificing a win for herself to allow O'Sullivan an opportunity at a win.
One this for certain, tomorrow's race is about more than a race against the clock. It's going to be against each other.
The air in the ART garage at Monte-Carlo was heavy & thick enough that no one wanted to break it. Mechanics leaned against toolboxes & engineers hunched over laptops that were already closed.
Noura Kassir sat on a folding chair near the wall, helmet resting in her lap. Her hands still trembled faintly from the adrenaline. Everyone had done their runs. Every lap time had been set. Now it was in the hands of timing screens.
She wanted to look at her phone. She wanted to look at something. But all she saw was the collective tension on the faces around her. ART, a room of fighters, waiting to see if today would be survival or disaster.
And then the screen on the far wall flickered. Data began to cascade.
The room held its breath.
Noura Kassir - P8.
The first number landed like thunder. The garage erupted in excitement. Mechanics clapped hands against each other’s backs, engineers shouted, & a few of the junior staff began to chant her name as if she had won the race alraedy. For Noura though, it was relief. Joy.
But the room hadn’t finished reading. Eyes darted back to the screen as it scrolled down. Names, numbers, positions. When it landed on P6, the explosion of noise shifted.
Zak O’Sullivan.
The loudest voice in the room was his own. He shouted, fists pumping, his helmet nearly tumbling off the counter where he’d left it. He was electric, almost manic, & drowned out the celebration of those just moments before.
Noura forced herself to stay present. She could feel the contrast of her quiet, overwhelmed joy against Zak’s furious pride.
It wasn’t just that he’d qualified higher. Noura has always put her teammates first. It was that he knew the ART garage would feel it. That she would hear it.
It was only a matter of time before it happened: the clash of two rising stars, teammates bound by colors but divided by everything else.
Noura closed her eyes, took a deep breathe, & swallowed her pride as she returned to speak with everyone in the ART garage. If ART is going to score points in Monte-Carlo, they'll have to capitalize on these placements. Even if it means sacrificing a win for herself to allow O'Sullivan an opportunity at a win.
One this for certain, tomorrow's race is about more than a race against the clock. It's going to be against each other.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 6164
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
The Future Starts Here.
Can't be easy for Zak O'Sullivan to feel like "the other teammate" with Noura pulling up as a trailblazer. But, that's just me playing uneducated devil's advocate.
-
Agent
Topic author - Posts: 11173
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
The Future Starts Here.
He definitely has a right to feel like they turned on him quick & made him the secondary driver. Perhaps if he wasn’t throwing shade things could be different.Captain Canada wrote: ↑23 Aug 2025, 10:03Can't be easy for Zak O'Sullivan to feel like "the other teammate" with Noura pulling up as a trailblazer. But, that's just me playing uneducated devil's advocate.
If he wants that respect, he’s going to have to earn it in Monaco
-
Agent
Topic author - Posts: 11173
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
The Future Starts Here.
The Enemy Who Wears the Same Colors.
Noura Kassir stood stiffly near the ART motorhome, arms crossed, helmet under her arm. Zak O’Sullivan leaned on a folding chair, tapping his boot heel against the asphalt. Neither said a word with the 5th round of F2 looming just minutes away.
Then came ART's president, Sébastien Philippe. He didn’t so much walk in quietly. His voice cracked against the air before either driver had a chance to greet him.
"You & you! Over here, right now!"
Noura & Zak stood up & approached the team's president.
“I've had enough of this shit!” he said, eyes darting between them.
“This isn’t about you... & this isn't about you! This is fucking ART. We are a team. Do you understand that? I don’t fucking care if you fucking hate each other, I don’t even care if you want to kill each other. But once you put on this suit, once you sit in my fucking car, you drive for my team by my orders. No more games. No more bullshit. This ends here right now. Have I made myself fucking clear?”
Noura tilted her head in understanding whilst maintaining eye contact with Zak, but her silence only seemed to fuel Philippe’s fire.
“And you,” he turned to Zak, “wipe that goddamn smug look off your face. You’re not a lone fucking cowboy here. You’re not driving one of my cars with a personal vendetta. You’re ART, and if you forget that, it'll be your ass! Now you get your shit together.. because your shit stinks, Pepe Le Pew.”
The words hung heavy. Philippe’s hand chopped the air as if punctuating his anger. He stood there a beat longer, scanning their faces, waiting for something to click, before finally storming off toward the pit wall.
"Now let's go have a fucking race.." he said as he left their sight.
Zak straightened, pushed his helmet into the crook of his arm, and locked eyes back with Noura. He gave the faintest shake of his head along with a smirk that suggested nothing had changed.
“Well.. You heard the boss,” he said lightly. “Try not to crash into me.”
And then he turned to walk away, boots crunching against the asphalt.
Noura’s voice stopped him. “Is that how it is, Zak? Let me ask you a question.. Why do you hate being my teammate so much? Is it ART? Is it me? What is it?”
Zak didn’t look back at first. He exhaled through his nose, then pivoted just enough to show half a smile.. one that wasn’t really a smile at all.
“You’re looking for drama where there isn’t any. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate being your teammate. What I hate,” he said, finally meeting her eyes, “is being told to play the understudy when I’m already in the same play. People clap for you like the script was written for you alone. You didn't earn this chance. You were given this opportunity on a silver platter.”
“Okay, fine! If that’s the story you've came up with your head.. We’re here in Monaco. You’re starting 6, I’m in 8. That’s giving you a head start. Today’s your chance, big boy. Beat me here and you can take all the praise you want as the better driver. Hell, I'll even make a personal post for you on Instagram calling you the better driver..” She said with a grin.
Zak didn’t blink. He nodded once, slow and deliberate, like the deal had weight.
“Deal.”
Neither said another word as they fell into step, walking toward the paddock tunnel. It was time for the race at Monte-Carlo.
Noura Kassir stood stiffly near the ART motorhome, arms crossed, helmet under her arm. Zak O’Sullivan leaned on a folding chair, tapping his boot heel against the asphalt. Neither said a word with the 5th round of F2 looming just minutes away.
Then came ART's president, Sébastien Philippe. He didn’t so much walk in quietly. His voice cracked against the air before either driver had a chance to greet him.
"You & you! Over here, right now!"
Noura & Zak stood up & approached the team's president.
“I've had enough of this shit!” he said, eyes darting between them.
“This isn’t about you... & this isn't about you! This is fucking ART. We are a team. Do you understand that? I don’t fucking care if you fucking hate each other, I don’t even care if you want to kill each other. But once you put on this suit, once you sit in my fucking car, you drive for my team by my orders. No more games. No more bullshit. This ends here right now. Have I made myself fucking clear?”
Noura tilted her head in understanding whilst maintaining eye contact with Zak, but her silence only seemed to fuel Philippe’s fire.
“And you,” he turned to Zak, “wipe that goddamn smug look off your face. You’re not a lone fucking cowboy here. You’re not driving one of my cars with a personal vendetta. You’re ART, and if you forget that, it'll be your ass! Now you get your shit together.. because your shit stinks, Pepe Le Pew.”
The words hung heavy. Philippe’s hand chopped the air as if punctuating his anger. He stood there a beat longer, scanning their faces, waiting for something to click, before finally storming off toward the pit wall.
"Now let's go have a fucking race.." he said as he left their sight.
Zak straightened, pushed his helmet into the crook of his arm, and locked eyes back with Noura. He gave the faintest shake of his head along with a smirk that suggested nothing had changed.
“Well.. You heard the boss,” he said lightly. “Try not to crash into me.”
And then he turned to walk away, boots crunching against the asphalt.
Noura’s voice stopped him. “Is that how it is, Zak? Let me ask you a question.. Why do you hate being my teammate so much? Is it ART? Is it me? What is it?”
Zak didn’t look back at first. He exhaled through his nose, then pivoted just enough to show half a smile.. one that wasn’t really a smile at all.
“You’re looking for drama where there isn’t any. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate being your teammate. What I hate,” he said, finally meeting her eyes, “is being told to play the understudy when I’m already in the same play. People clap for you like the script was written for you alone. You didn't earn this chance. You were given this opportunity on a silver platter.”
“Okay, fine! If that’s the story you've came up with your head.. We’re here in Monaco. You’re starting 6, I’m in 8. That’s giving you a head start. Today’s your chance, big boy. Beat me here and you can take all the praise you want as the better driver. Hell, I'll even make a personal post for you on Instagram calling you the better driver..” She said with a grin.
Zak didn’t blink. He nodded once, slow and deliberate, like the deal had weight.
“Deal.”
Neither said another word as they fell into step, walking toward the paddock tunnel. It was time for the race at Monte-Carlo.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 6164
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
The Future Starts Here.
Oh here we go 
-
Agent
Topic author - Posts: 11173
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
The Future Starts Here.
ART Grand Prix's Tensions Spills To The Track While Antonelli Wins A 4th Straight In Monaco!
F2, Round 5 - Monaco Grand Prix, Monte Carlo, Monaco
ART Grand Prix' Zak O'Sullivan collides into Noura Kassir as the two battled for placement in today's race.
PREMA's Antonelli has won 4 straight F2 races following another win in Monaco!
It's 3 Points for ART after Noura Kassir tallies 2 alongside Zak O'Sullivan's 1 in round 5.
Andrea Antonelli & Oliver Bearman lead the charge to push PREMA's lead even further.
-
Agent
Topic author - Posts: 11173
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
The Future Starts Here.
The Enemy Who Wears the Same Colors (Part Deux).
While PREMA's Andrea Lima Antonelli was the media's focus after the race, another important moment in the F2 season began to unfold in front of everyone's eyes as ART Grand Prix's Zak O'Sullivan swiftly approached Noura Kassir after the race.
"Hey, Kassir!" he shouted as he yanked his helmet from his head.
"You disobeyed an order out there!" He shouted, slowly inching closer to the F2 rookie.
The order, which was given to Noura mid-race:
"You're damn right I did." She replied as she pulled her helmet off, turning her shoulders towards Zak, unphased by the moment.
He paused for a moment & let his guard down.
“I would've done the same bloody thing!” he said, voice drawn out, yet with an unfamiliar, friendlier smile.
“Looks like you got lucky out there.”
Noura didn’t flinch.
“Luck doesn’t finish ahead of you, Zak..” she answered.
The crew nearby froze, sensing something rare as the two storms of ART began circling.
“You know what?” He said as his tone softened.
He extended his hand, slow, deliberate, like it weighed more than any trophy.
“Ninth is yours. Fair and square. Good drive, Noura.”
Her eyebrows lifted, surprised by his post-race gesture. She met him halfway & returned the respectful gesture.
“Well, damn,” Marcus said under his breath after witnessing a potential turning-point for the ART garage.
"Now, we get to work, Zak."
"Let's do it, Noura." Zak replied as the two joined the other members of ART to celebrate 3 points on the day.
While PREMA's Andrea Lima Antonelli was the media's focus after the race, another important moment in the F2 season began to unfold in front of everyone's eyes as ART Grand Prix's Zak O'Sullivan swiftly approached Noura Kassir after the race.
"Hey, Kassir!" he shouted as he yanked his helmet from his head.
"You disobeyed an order out there!" He shouted, slowly inching closer to the F2 rookie.
The order, which was given to Noura mid-race:
"You're damn right I did." She replied as she pulled her helmet off, turning her shoulders towards Zak, unphased by the moment.
He paused for a moment & let his guard down.
“I would've done the same bloody thing!” he said, voice drawn out, yet with an unfamiliar, friendlier smile.
“Looks like you got lucky out there.”
Noura didn’t flinch.
“Luck doesn’t finish ahead of you, Zak..” she answered.
The crew nearby froze, sensing something rare as the two storms of ART began circling.
“You know what?” He said as his tone softened.
He extended his hand, slow, deliberate, like it weighed more than any trophy.
“Ninth is yours. Fair and square. Good drive, Noura.”
Her eyebrows lifted, surprised by his post-race gesture. She met him halfway & returned the respectful gesture.
“Well, damn,” Marcus said under his breath after witnessing a potential turning-point for the ART garage.
"Now, we get to work, Zak."
"Let's do it, Noura." Zak replied as the two joined the other members of ART to celebrate 3 points on the day.
-
Agent
Topic author - Posts: 11173
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 22:54
The Future Starts Here.
McLaren Prospect' Noura Kassir Quietly Making Noise for ART Grand Prix in Formula 2.
In the high-stakes world of Formula 2, patience is rare. But McLaren has reason to keep its eyes on 22-year-old Noura Kassir, a Lebanese-born racer who’s beginning to show the poise and grit that could one day elevate her to the Formula 1 paddock.
Currently sitting 11th in the championship standings with 21 points, Kassir’s rookie campaign has been a mix of hard lessons and flashes of undeniable promise. Racing under the ART Grand Prix banner, the young driver has faced her share of rookie jitters—missteps in qualifying sessions, learning the delicate balance of tire management, and fighting through the intensity of F2’s notoriously cutthroat midfield. Yet, despite these hurdles, she has begun to carve out a reputation for composure under pressure and an unshakable determination to improve.
Kassir trails championship leader Andrea Kimi Antonelli by 88 points, but within ART, optimism is building that her second half of the season could show a different gear. The French outfit sits 6th in the team standings, and Kassir’s progression will be critical to their late-season push.
“Noura’s raw speed has always been there,” an ART engineer told ESPN. “What she’s learning now is how to translate that into consistent racecraft. She doesn’t panic in difficult situations, and that’s rare for a rookie.”
McLaren, which has invested heavily in its driver development program, is watching closely. With a growing demand for diversity in motorsport, Kassir represents both a cultural milestone—Lebanon’s first female driver at this level—and a potential long-term asset for the brand.
“She’s not just here to participate,” said one McLaren academy official. “Her mentality is about winning. When she gets it right, you see why we brought her into the program.”
Kassir’s story resonates beyond the track. Born in Beirut and raised with racing as a distant dream, she’s now standing at the edge of motorsport’s biggest stage. The road from Formula 2 to Formula 1 is brutal, littered with talent that never quite makes the leap. But if Kassir continues to pair her determination with results, she may just find herself breaking barriers in more ways than one.
For now, the focus is on execution. Points are there to be gained, momentum is within reach, and the rest of the season will reveal whether Noura Kassir’s quiet progress transforms into a louder statement.