The Formula 1 World Drivers’ Championship is delivering the thrilling, unpredictable action that fans have craved, with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri locked in an intense battle, and Max Verstappen closing in dangerously. Yet, when the grid left the chaotic spectacle of the Mexico City Grand Prix, the narrative was not about the points scored or the brilliant overtakes; it was about the dangerous, controversial, and potentially race-deciding mistakes made by the sport’s governing body, the FIA.

The event was less a celebration of elite motorsport and more a desperate call for introspection, driven by three major incidents that overshadowed the racing: a truly horrifying near-fatal incident involving a marshal, a baffling late-race Virtual Safety Car (VSC) deployment, and a widespread fury over unpunished track limit abuses that infuriated nearly half the paddock.

The Near-Fatal Dash: “I Could Have Effing Killed Them Mate”

The most alarming moment of the entire weekend—an incident that should have been a red flag for the entire organization—occurred early in the race. Following a hectic, debris-strewn first lap, Liam Lawson was forced to pit early for repairs after contact with Carlos Sainz. When the young New Zealander emerged from the pit lane, driving down the exit of Turn 1 and heading toward the Turn 2 and 3 chicane, he was confronted with a sight no driver should ever have to witness: two marshals running directly across the live racetrack.

The marshals, who were clearing bodywork debris left from the opening corner carnage, appeared completely unaware that Lawson was coming through their sector. Lawson, thankfully warned by double-waved yellow flags instructing him to slow down, managed to react in time, but the sheer terror of the moment was palpable in his radio communication.

A shaken Lawson quickly radioed his race engineer, Ernesto Desidereio, saying, “Wait, the f— oh my god, are you kidding me? Did you see that?” His next transmission delivered a chilling, raw assessment of the danger: “I could have effing killed them mate.”

The incident immediately resurrected dark memories, including Esteban Ocon’s close call with photographers in the pit lane at the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, and once again, placed the FIA’s safety protocols under intense scrutiny.

After the race, Lawson’s outrage was absolute. “I honestly couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” he recounted. “I got to Turn 1 and there were just two dudes running across the track. I nearly hit one of them, honestly. It was so dangerous… it’s pretty unacceptable.”

The FIA issued a statement explaining that the disaster was averted by a catastrophic communication breakdown. Marshals were authorized to enter the track after the main pack had passed. However, the vital message that Lawson had pitted and was rejoining the track before the pack took too long to reach the Marshall’s post. They entered the track believing they had a safe window, unaware a car was already hurtling toward them. The takeaway is brutal: a procedure was in place, and it failed completely, jeopardizing human life. The safety of the sport, always F1’s proudest boast, was compromised at the most fundamental level.

The Great Corner-Cutting Scandal: Fury Over Unpunished Advantage

If the marshall incident was a safety failure, the stewarding decisions regarding the first-lap action represented a major crisis of competitive fairness, driving established veterans to boiling points of frustration.

During the chaotic run down to Turn 1, five drivers—including title contenders Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen, alongside Andrea Kimi Antonelli, Carlos Sainz, and Liam Lawson—all left the track at the Turns 1, 2, and 3 complex and rejoined without losing position or incurring a penalty.

The decision not to punish these clear infringements sparked open fury from those who stayed on track and lost positions as a result. George Russell and Fernando Alonso were particularly vocal about what they saw as blatant rule-breaking to gain an unfair advantage.

Aston Martin’s Fernando Alonso, never shy about expressing his mind, was incandescent. He stated that he had made a good, aggressive start, but noted, “I think a couple of cars went just straight in Turn 2 and 3 and then they rejoined like three or four cars in front of me, so it’s a little bit unfair.” He escalated his critique by warning the FIA that he considered the lack of action a “lesson learned,” hinting he would be cutting the corner himself for the rest of the season if such actions were unpunished. “It’s the second time in a row that on the first lap in the first corner the FIA is looking the other side.”

Russell, echoing Alonso’s frustration, pointed out the obvious hypocrisy of the ruling. “Max fully centered across the grass and one of the Ferraris just bails onto the grass,” he remarked. He struggled to comprehend “how three drivers can cut the track and just continue with no penalty.”

Russell’s most insightful comment was a stark moral critique: “In life, if you can risk everything with no consequence, you’ll do this, but it ends up punishing the people who are driving properly.” He didn’t stop at criticizing the stewards; he went to the root cause: the track design. Russell rightly argued that the issue is endemic to circuits that provide a “get out of jail free card” in the form of flat tarmac run-offs. “If it were gravel, nobody would be there,” he asserted, calling for the reintroduction of natural deterrents to punish drivers who exceed the track limits. It is a recurring issue in Mexico, and the collective driver outrage suggests that unless the FIA commits to decisive punishment or mandatory track modifications, the first three corners will remain a free-for-all.

The VSC That Ruined the Climax

The final layer of controversy was dropped late in the race, when a thrilling climax was suddenly and controversially defused by the deployment of the Virtual Safety Car.

With just a few laps remaining, the race was set for a spectacular, high-stakes finish. Max Verstappen was hunting down Charles Leclerc, while Oscar Piastri was similarly chasing down Olly Bearman. Both battles were within DRS range, setting the stage for wheel-to-wheel action that could have seriously reshaped the championship standings.

But the moment never came. The VSC was deployed for Carlos Sainz’s stricken Williams, which had spun and was parked in the low-speed stadium section. Fans and commentators were instantly baffled. Sainz’s car was visibly off the racing line, seemingly behind a barrier, and far enough off the track in a low-speed area to present, on the surface, “zero risk of a driver hitting it.”

The VSC deployment, which instantly neutralized the racing, was immediately criticized for spoiling the end of an incredible race. Piastri himself conceded the VSC likely “saved him from Verstappen”—a tacit acknowledgment that the deployment had a decisive, albeit unintended, sporting consequence.

The FIA later offered its explanation. The problem was not the position of the car, but what happened next: “The car subsequently began smoking and race control received notifications of fire, making it clear that Marshall intervention would be required for recovery.” With the risk of fire, the FIA spokesperson stated, the VSC was the “only option.” While safety must always prevail, the decision highlights a growing tension: an administrative safety protocol, though justified, took precedence over the natural, exciting climax of a world-class race, leaving a bitter taste for many in the F1 community.

The cumulative effect of these three incidents—the marshall near-tragedy, the track limits farce, and the VSC anti-climax—paint a troubling picture. The Mexico City Grand Prix, an event designed to celebrate the thrill of speed and precision, has become a potent symbol of the FIA’s inconsistency, its procedural failings, and the need for a comprehensive, immediate review of how the sport is governed, policed, and kept safe. Drivers are demanding change, and their collective fury is a warning that the integrity and safety of Formula 1 cannot afford another event like this. The sport is great, but its stewardship is now the dominant, and most worrying, story.