First, fifth, and sixth: that’s the summary of Ferrari’s sweltering Sunday. First place for the brilliant AF Corse 499P at Le Mans, victorious with Robert Kubica, a true modern motorsport hero—someone who deserves a movie, far more than Brad Pitt’s Hollywood fantasy. Fifth and sixth in Canada for the SF-25 cars of Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton. In short, there’s a Ferrari that wins, and one that struggles. The winning one is yellow, the struggling one is red. It’s pointless to draw direct parallels between two entirely different realities, yet one represents the exaltation of the Prancing Horse myth in all its forms and technological extensions, while the other is a portrait of a failure that’s hard to accept or explain, as it continues over time without any clear sign of change.
Montreal unfortunately did not tell us anything new. If anything, it reinforced the notion, using Charles Leclerc’s own words, that Ferrari doesn’t have a car to win, and, in Lewis Hamilton’s words, is already out of the 2025 Formula 1 championship fight.
It is hard to admit to having built the wrong car (and made other mistakes as well). Frederic Vasseur tries to provide credible explanations, talking about the need to find internal calm, after which results will follow. But who, if not him, was brought to Maranello precisely to bring not only calm but also the right people to lead the rebuild, restoring an environment of mutual trust, respect for roles and expertise, information flow, harmony, dialogue, and planning?
We are not in a position to say whether Frederic Vasseur has done that. But if after 10 races it’s he himself saying that calm is needed and concentration must be maintained, it means there are many unresolved issues and perhaps the time he has had to start a new path hasn’t been used in the best way.
In short, no one is throwing him under the bus, but Frederic Vasseur must look within, and ask himself whether he truly understood what Ferrari is, whether he underestimated it, or perhaps overestimated himself.
It is simply not acceptable to reach the halfway point of the season with two drivers, or rather, two champions, clearly dissatisfied, fans bewildered, an uninspired top management, and a future clouded by doubt and devoid of certainties. No one wants to see him pushed out of Maranello, far from it, but it seems unavoidable that some kind of reset or clarification must happen, on clearly different terms, if the team is to move forward. It’s inconceivable that in the only race so far where McLaren was absent from the battle, it was Mercedes and Red Bull who fought for victory while Ferrari was miles off the pace and never in contention.
This is a discussion that could go far deeper, but we’ll stop here. It’s up to Ferrari—internally—to take action in light of the gap between Le Mans and Montreal. Meanwhile, we all got excited in Canada about Andrea Kimi Antonelli, the “Jannik Sinner” of Formula 1, a talented, fresh, intelligent, and likable young man who clawed his way onto the third step of the podium on a tricky, deceptive track where he had never raced before.
Yes, he has all the hallmarks of a future champion—but so does George Russell, who won quietly, using his head and making the most of a much-improved Mercedes that finally found the right conditions to shine. Max Verstappen, who finished second, drove with the title in mind, and Piastri—on a strange Sunday where McLaren played a supporting role for reasons no one quite understands—secured a valuable fourth place, helped in part by yet another lapse in judgment from Lando Norris, who crashed trying to overtake his teammate in a gap that was far too tight.
Oscar is grateful. So is Verstappen. The championship remains open. But if Ferrari had also been part of this brilliant chaos, we’d all be happier. And “Hi Fred!” would be, too.
