“As we waited for the first final-table race, Dylan sat quietly at Table 147–our home away from home since the First Chance/Last Chance qualifier on Thursday. In front of him were printed past performances, meticulously marked up the night before with speed figures by his wife Meghan, who also provided both emotional and physical sustenance. At one point she pulled an energy bar out of her purse, which Dylan promptly devoured. AirPods in. Hat turned backwards. Perrier in hand. Seven races from history. I marveled at his calm and personable demeanor. Dozens of people stopped by to wish him luck. He's simultaneously one of the most-feared and most-liked competitors on the tour. As tablemates, the rest of us simply tried not to disturb the delicate equilibrium he had created between races. If Dylan was relaxed, we joked and verbally sparred like always. If he went silent and stared at the screen, everyone around him instinctively did the same. At one point I desperately wanted to ask what he was listening to in those AirPods, but I couldn't quite find the right moment.”

Chernobyl? Keep people away for their own safety. I may need an emergency @betterhelp counseling session.