There are few images in modern sport as emotionally loaded as a driver in Ferrari red. For generations Formula One has wrapped the Scuderia in legacy and nostalgia. Lewis Hamilton grew up mesmerised by that lore.
Long before the world championships and the personal records, he had imagined as a child what it might be like to step into the famed cockpit. When the moment finally arrived it felt like the kind of story that motorsport needed to deliver. A childhood vision realised. A titan chasing an eighth crown in the colours of a team that has defined the very idea of racing romance.
His arrival sent ripples across the paddock because Hamilton had been the cornerstone of Mercedes for 12 years. He had delivered six drivers' titles and shaped one of the most dominant periods in the history of Formula One. Leaving that sanctuary to cross into Maranello was a profound rupture, but Hamilton presented it as the natural evolution of a life defined by reinvention. On social media he wrote: “To anyone considering their next move in 2025: embrace the change.
“Whether you're switching industries, learning a new skill, or even just taking on new challenges, remember that reinvention is powerful. Your next opportunity is always within reach.”
At the season launch, he enthused: “We are the strongest pairing F1 has probably ever had,” insisting that the partnership with Charles Leclerc was built for glory. He spoke with enthusiasm about Ferrari’s mystique.
“You go to the Italian Grand Prix, and you see the sea of red of Ferrari fans, and you can only stand in awe of that. I used to play on Grand Prix 2 as Michael [Schumacher] in that car. So it definitely is a dream.”
For a moment, it appeared that this union might become the final heroic chapter of a storied career. Except what followed was anything but.
His Ferrari debut in Melbourne yielded a 10th-place finished, an outing he described as “a disastrous race,” though he was careful to project calm. A sprint victory in China briefly revived optimism before the double disqualification of both Ferraris in the Grand Prix erased the progress immediately. What followed was a season that travelled from disappointment to disillusionment and culminated in utter pain.
The numbers tell their own story: Hamilton sits sixth in the drivers' championship with a meagre 152 points and no podium finishes heading into the final weekend at the Etihad Airways Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Teammate Leclerc, meanwhile, has amassed 230 points and seven podiums. Eighteen-year-old Kimi Antonelli, the teenager who inherited Hamilton’s seat at Mercedes, is only two points behind him with one race remaining. Meanwhile, Carlos Sainz, the driver Ferrari released to make room for Hamilton, has already collected two podiums at Williams.
The contrast has not gone unnoticed. Guenther Steiner captured the sentiment neatly when speaking of Ferrari’s decision to recruit Hamilton. “They had a known quantity with Carlos; he could deliver, and Lewis obviously, I respect Lewis, but in the moment, for the unrest he brings into the team and around the team, is it a worthwhile investment? Maybe not.”
Las Vegas gave us the clearest picture of how far the move has fallen below expectations. After looking competitive in practice, Hamilton slipped into the darkest moment of his first year in red, qualifying last for the first time in his career.
“It obviously cannot get much worse than that,” he said afterwards. His assessment of the weekend was stripped of any attempt at restraint. “Horrendous weekend. Another one to add to the list.” Speaking to BBC Radio Five Live, he added: “There is nothing positive to take from today. I am eager for it to end. I am looking forward to it ending. I am not looking forward to the next one.” When asked if he meant Qatar, he answered quietly: “Next season.”
A decline that did not begin in Maranello
Hamilton’s downturn did not begin with Ferrari. Its roots reach back several seasons. His qualifying form has been eroding since the introduction of the ground effect regulations in 2022. In 2024, he openly questioned his speed after qualifying seventh for the sprint race at the Qatar Grand Prix. “I am definitely not fast anymore.”
After qualifying 12th in Budapest, this year while Leclerc took pole, Hamilton said: “It is me every time. I am useless, absolutely useless. The team have no problem. You have seen the car is on pole. So we probably need to change driver.”
These emotional reflections revealed a driver grappling not only with Ferrari’s limitations but with a level of self-belief that has slowly receded over the past few seasons.
Why adaptation has proved so elusive
Multiple reasons could lie behind Hamilton’s struggle. The first is the nature of this regulatory era introduced in 2022. Ground effect cars have never suited his instincts. Earlier in the season, he described it as “the worst for me,” and expressed hope that 2026 would offer a reset. He is far from alone. Fernando Alonso described this generation of cars with brutal candour, saying: “I think the [current] cars are definitely too heavy, they are too big and the ground effect and the ride heights we are racing are not really fun to drive.” Max Verstappen has expressed similar discomfort despite his many race wins.
The second element is braking. Braking and corner entry have traditionally been key strengths for Hamilton, yet this year those phases have exposed some of his greatest difficulties. The transition from the Carbone Industrie system at Mercedes to the Brembo hardware at Ferrari has forced him to rewire instincts built over two decades.
After the Bahrain Grand Prix, he explained: “I never used engine braking before. In the past 12 years we never used engine braking but here we use a lot of engine braking to turn the car. The brakes are so much different to what I had in the past.” He described needing to “reset everything.” For a driver whose artistry lies in how he brakes, such a change is hard to master quickly.
The third factor is cultural. Ferrari is an empire with its own cadence, vocabulary and rituals. Sebastian Vettel reflected on his own experience on the Beyond the Grid podcast and said: “Ferrari has an Italian heart. You cannot really connect with everyone if they do not speak or understand English.” He admitted he had made “the same mistake” and advised Hamilton: “He needs to learn the language and spend more time in Italy. I should have done the same.”
Hamilton’s relationship with his race engineer Riccardo Adami is still evolving, but it is nowhere near the natural rapport he enjoyed with Peter Bonnington at Mercedes. At times their exchanges over the radio have sounded strained rather than symphonic, forcing Hamilton to deny problems between the two.
Considering the struggles, it’s perhaps pertinent to ask the uncomfortable question; was this monumental move truly in the best interests of either Hamilton or Ferrari?
From the perspective of the Scuderia, the dilemma is plain to see. Hamilton is a global icon, but he simply cannot be the centrepiece of their long-term future due to his age (40). Leclerc holds that position and ought to shape the evolution of the next era. Moulding the car to Hamilton’s preferences risks destabilising their strategic continuity, yet not doing so undermines the purpose of signing him at all.
For Hamilton, the question is more personal. “I do not regret the decision I made,” he said. “I know it takes time to build and grow within an organisation.” But the contrast between the dream of Ferrari and the reality of Ferrari must be conjuring up many emotions for a driver chasing an elusive eighth world title.
The image of Hamilton in Ferrari red still carries enormous emotional weight. It speaks to ambition, reinvention and the pull of history. Yet his first season has exposed the distance between the romance of the move and the reality of it. The second year will determine whether this union can still become the triumphant final act so many imagined or whether it will stand as a reminder that even the greatest careers must eventually surrender to time.
