The world of Formula 1 watched with bated breath when Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, made his sensational switch to the iconic scarlet of Scuderia Ferrari. It was a move heralded as the union of the sport’s greatest driver and its most legendary team—a partnership destined for glory. Yet, as the season unfolds, the dream is rapidly curdling into a complex and public struggle. Despite monumental expectations, Hamilton’s tenure has been marked by frustration, underperformance, and whispers of a deep-seated conflict, not on the track, but within the very walls of Maranello.

The statistics paint a stark picture. While his teammate, Charles Leclerc, has consistently found his way to the Grand Prix podium five times, Hamilton has been left in the shadows, his only notable successes being a single sprint race victory and a sprint podium . The glaring disparity has ignited a firestorm of debate among pundits and fans alike. Is Hamilton, at 40, past his prime? Or is there a more insidious problem brewing within the Ferrari camp?

According to former F1 star Juan Pablo Montoya, the blame lies squarely with the team, not the driver. In a candid analysis, Montoya argues that Ferrari is failing to capitalize on Hamilton’s immense talent, instead attempting to force a square peg into a round hole. He describes a “culture clash” of monumental proportions, where Ferrari’s engineers are “stubbornly insisting” that their car be driven in a specific way—a way that fundamentally contradicts Hamilton’s natural, finely-honed driving style that brought him unprecedented success at Mercedes . It’s a battle of philosophies, and right now, Hamilton is on the losing side.

At the heart of the issue is the notoriously problematic SF25. The car has been a handful for both drivers, plagued by an unstable suspension and an unpredictable setup that makes finding the perfect balance a near-impossible task . The situation escalated dramatically after a disqualification for excessive plank wear forced the engineers to raise the car’s ride height. This seemingly minor adjustment had major consequences, rendering the SF25 even more erratic and difficult to control . Instead of engineering a solution to stabilize the car, the team allegedly turned to Hamilton and demanded something shocking: change the very essence of your driving to compensate for our car’s flaws . For a driver of Hamilton’s caliber, who has spent over a decade perfecting his craft, this was not just a suggestion; it was an affront.

This engineering impasse is symptomatic of a larger cultural issue within Ferrari. Hamilton’s career was forged in the crucible of Mercedes, a team renowned for its ruthless efficiency, driven decision-making, and an adaptable culture where the driver’s feedback is paramount. At Mercedes, if the car wasn’t working for Hamilton, the team would move mountains to fix it. At Ferrari, however, tradition, a rigid hierarchy, and internal politics often hold more sway than pure performance . The Prancing Horse is an institution steeped in a century of history, and its methods are not easily changed, not even for a seven-time world champion. This clash between Hamilton’s expectation of a collaborative, performance-first environment and Ferrari’s more rigid, tradition-bound approach is at the core of their current struggles.

Adding a thick layer of irony to the saga is the performance of Carlos Sainz, the very driver Hamilton was signed to replace. In a twist of fate, Sainz began delivering the best performances of his career immediately after the news of his impending departure broke. His resurgence has been so strong that it has led many to question the timing and wisdom of Ferrari’s decision. Had they waited, would they have still chosen to oust the fiercely competitive Spaniard for the struggling British legend? It’s a question that hangs heavy in the Maranello air, a constant reminder of what might have been.

Despite the immense challenges, Hamilton’s brilliance has not been entirely extinguished. There have been tantalizing flashes of the old magic, moments that remind the world why he is considered one of the greatest of all time. His sprint race victory in China was a masterclass in challenging conditions, a testament to his enduring skill . The sprint podium in Miami and a powerful qualifying lap in Monaco further proved that the champion’s fire still burns brightly . However, these moments of triumph have been fleeting, often undone by team blunders, ill-timed penalties, or the car’s inherent unpredictability . Each step forward seems to be followed by two steps back, trapping him in a frustrating cycle of mediocrity.

Looking ahead, Hamilton has pinned his hopes on the massive regulation changes set for 2026, viewing it as a crucial reset button for both himself and the team . A new set of rules could level the playing field, erasing the inherent advantages of rival teams and giving Ferrari a clean slate to build a car that complements, rather than conflicts with, his driving style. However, as Montoya wisely points out, Hamilton’s ultimate success at Ferrari will not be determined by new regulations alone. It hinges on the willingness of the team’s leadership and engineers to evolve, to let go of their rigid traditions, and to truly collaborate with the generational talent they fought so hard to acquire .

The saga of Lewis Hamilton at Ferrari is more than just a story of a driver struggling with a new car. It is a cautionary tale about the collision of talent and tradition, of individual brilliance versus institutional stubbornness. To save this dream partnership from becoming a historic failure, Ferrari must do more than just build a better car; it must be willing to change itself.