The 2025 Formula 1 season was meant to be a coronation. It was meant to be the year McLaren, the resurgent giant, finally ended a 17-year championship drought. And for months, the hero of that story was unequivocally Oscar Piastri. The young Australian, in only his third season, was leading the world championship, driving with a serene composure that belied his age. He was, by all accounts, a future world champion.

Then came the United States Grand Prix.

In one devastating weekend in Austin, that calm exterior cracked, and the entire narrative of the season was torn apart. Piastri, once the dominant force, suddenly looked sluggish, average, and vulnerable. He crashed in the sprint race and could only manage a disappointing fifth in the main event. But the true horror wasn’t just his result; it was watching his teammate, Lando Norris, fight at the very front with their chief rival, Max Verstappen.

The gap wasn’t just a gap; it was a chasm. And now, the paddock is asking one, terrifying question: Was it deliberate?

The data from the Circuit of the Americas doesn’t lie. Piastri’s car, which was supposed to be identical to his teammate’s, was inexplicably slower. He was slower in qualifying, slower on the straights, and had abysmal race pace. Data from the speed traps was particularly damning, showing Norris consistently 3-4 km/h faster, despite both cars running identical aerodynamic setups.

The team’s official explanation—that it was down to minor setup tweaks and driving style—has been met with skepticism. To many, this gap looked unusual, almost unnatural. It has ignited a firestorm of speculation that a political game is being played inside the Papaya garage, a desperate attempt to shift the team’s title hopes onto Norris as Verstappen and Red Bull surge with terrifying, unstoppable momentum.

Inside McLaren, the pressure is immense. Team Principal Andrea Stella, a man revered for his calm leadership, insists that both drivers are treated equally. But his words have been parsed with the precision of a legal document. He has stated that no team orders will be issued “until the mathematics demand it.”

That single phrase hangs in the air like a threat. With five races and two sprint rounds remaining, the “mathematics” could flip at any moment. Piastri still leads, but his cushion is evaporating. The team is now trapped in a horrific strategic dilemma: if they wait too long to back one driver, they risk Verstappen snatching the crown from both of them. But if they act now, they could destroy the fragile trust between their two young stars and shatter the team’s unity.

This is the poison of a championship fight. It’s not just about what happens on the track; it’s about the psychological war waged within. And there are signs that Piastri is losing that war.

For many, the idea of “outright sabotage” in modern, driven Formula 1 seems impossible. Every millisecond, every drop of fuel, every engine mode is monitored. But insiders suggest the reality is far more subtle, a “soft bias” that is impossible to prove but devastatingly effective.

It’s in the tiny details. Which engineer gets more attention? Who gets the fresher set of tires for that crucial qualifying run? Which driver’s strategy is prioritized in the race when a split-second decision is needed? None of it is illegal. None of it is overt. But in a sport decided by thousandths of a second, it is enough to create a psychological edge.

This is what appears to be happening to Oscar Piastri. Early in the year, when expectations were low, his driving was described as “free and fearless.” Now, with the championship slipping through his fingers, every lap feels heavy. Every decision feels like a risk. The paddock whispers are that he has become more cautious, visibly frustrated on the team radio, and, most worryingly, “increasingly insecure.”

That insecurity is the real weapon. The fear of losing the title, or worse, losing the faith of his own team, can crush even the most generational talent. It’s a familiar story. We saw it with Charles Leclerc in 2022, when Ferrari’s internal confusion derailed his momentum. Once a driver starts to doubt whether the car beneath him is truly equal, the fight is already half-lost.

And all the while, the predator waits.

Max Verstappen, after being written off mid-season, is doing exactly what a champion does: waiting for his rivals to implode. In the last five race weekends, the Red Bull driver has been on a relentless, terrifying tear, scoring 119 out of a possible 133 points. While McLaren’s drivers are tripping over each other, Verstappen is quietly and efficiently cutting down their lead. He doesn’t need to dominate every weekend; he just needs McLaren to keep making these mistakes, to keep bleeding points in their internal civil war.

The irony is that McLaren has been here before. The ghost of 2007—when Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso’s bitter internal war cost them both the championship, handing it to Kimi Raikkonen at the final race—looms large over the Woking team. Andrea Stella referenced that very history, promising they wouldn’t make a premature call.

But history also teaches that indecision can be just as deadly. Red Bull’s entire system revolves around maximizing Verstappen’s chances. McLaren, in its noble-but-naive quest to play fair, is risking everything. Fans may love the purity of the approach, but championships are rarely won by being “fair.” They are won by being ruthless.

As the circus heads into the final, brutal stretch—Mexico, Brazil, Qatar, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi—the championship will be decided by what happens inside Piastri’s mind. He needs a comeback, not just on the track, but mentally. He must rebuild his trust, rediscover his confidence, and prove that he can handle the suffocating spotlight of a title fight.

Because if Norris outperforms him again, the narrative of team sabotage will only grow stronger. And in Formula 1, perception can be just as destructive as reality. Whether McLaren is truly holding Piastri back might not even matter. What matters is that he feels it.

Once a driver starts doubting his own team, that harmony is almost impossible to regain. This is the critical moment. Either McLaren unites behind one driver, or they risk repeating their darkest history while Max Verstappen celebrates yet another championship that should have been theirs. The clock is ticking.