The 2025 Formula 1 season is hurtling towards a conclusion filled with unpredictable drama. What once seemed like a straightforward championship narrative dominated by McLaren has been violently rewritten by a familiar name: Max Verstappen. After the Singapore Grand Prix, the “Flying Dutchman” is not just miraculously closing the points gap; he is waging a relentless psychological war, systematically “humiliating” and overwhelming his rivals one calculated move at a time.

The Singapore Turning Point: More Than Just a Race

The Singapore Grand Prix was never going to be just another race; it was a pressure cooker, a stage where tensions would boil over and true strategies would be laid bare. For McLaren, this event was meant to solidify their commanding lead. However, the reality was a brutal departure from the script. From the early laps, Lando Norris made slight contact with Verstappen, while his teammate, Oscar Piastri, was dragged into the ensuing chaos. The result was a toxic atmosphere in the papaya-colored garage, with on-air arguments over team strategy and driver conduct broadcast live for the world to witness.

Meanwhile, Verstappen, despite facing his own set of challenges, masterfully brought his car home in second place. This wasn’t merely a good result in terms of points; it was a profound statement. He didn’t just limit the damage; he amplified the immense pressure on McLaren. The team’s simmering internal politics became Verstappen’s greatest asset, proving the age-old F1 adage: “Championships aren’t just won with pace; they are lost to politics.” If McLaren’s biggest rival is now itself, what happens when Verstappen arrives with a car that has finally found its bite?

McLaren’s “Civil War”: An Unexpected Gift for Verstappen

Andrea Stella’s “let them race” doctrine at McLaren is being tested in the most public and punishing way imaginable. The rivalry between Norris and Piastri, once a “beautiful problem,” has rapidly devolved into a liability. A minor brush on track, a sharp barb over the team radio—suddenly, management is spending more time massaging egos than engineering upgrades. Stella himself admits it’s becoming increasingly difficult to manage.

This turmoil is pure oxygen for Verstappen. While Norris and Piastri are busy battling each other and their own reflections in the mirror, Verstappen has only one opponent: the stopwatch. Every ounce of McLaren’s internal friction, from the smallest disagreements to major strategic fractures, equates to “free lap time” for Max. Even his own fury over being impeded during Singapore qualifying only sharpened his edge. He filed it away, cataloged it as motivation. It’s a lesson everyone else on the grid should remember well.

Red Bull’s Astonishing Resurgence: Leadership or Just Max?

Red Bull’s mid-season reset has fundamentally altered the texture of this championship. Since Laurent Mekies took the helm as Team Principal in July, Verstappen has secured four consecutive podium finishes, including dominant wins in Italy and Azerbaijan, and a crucial second place in Singapore. The points gap has plummeted from a seemingly insurmountable 104 to just 63. Call it leadership, call it setup clarity, or simply call it “Max being Max”—whatever the cause, the swing in momentum is undeniable.

Mekies might deflect the credit, but the stopwatch doesn’t lie. These clustered results, coming deep in the season’s run-in, are devastating. They don’t just score points; they psychologically reset the entire grid. Suddenly, the paddock is whispering, “Red Bull understands the car again.” For McLaren, this means they can no longer simply manage the gap; they must now out-risk Verstappen, a driver who thrives when the stakes are highest.

Mercedes and Ferrari: The Missing Threats

In this high-stakes title fight, the relative absence of Mercedes and Ferrari as consistent threats has played directly into Red Bull’s hands. Aside from occasional peaks from George Russell, Mercedes hasn’t been able to consistently bully the front-runners. Ferrari, despite the headline-grabbing news of Lewis Hamilton’s switch, has failed to translate hype into a relentless stream of podiums.

This matters immensely. Verstappen’s hunt for the title relies on McLaren feeling isolated at the top. With Ferrari stuck in the “best of the rest” category, Red Bull can focus its entire arsenal on one target: papaya. What will ultimately decide this championship? Will it be aerodynamic upgrades or human error? If it’s the latter, Verstappen already has McLaren exactly where he wants them: glancing sideways at each other.

The Mind Game: How Max Inflicts “Humiliation”

The “humiliation” Verstappen inflicts isn’t about lapping his rivals. It’s something far more subtle, colder, and more cerebral. It’s about forcing your opponents to drive your race. It’s the moment Lando Norris defensively covers a gap that isn’t there because he thinks Max is coming. It’s when Oscar Piastri brakes earlier than he wants because the pressure is causing his Sector 3 tire temperatures to spike. It’s the McLaren pit wall splitting their strategies “just in case,” only to lose out on both fronts.

That is true humiliation: when a single driver can bend the collective decision-making of two rival garages to his will. Verstappen’s strategy is built on several core tenets:

Front-Row or P3 Starts:

Limit risk and force McLaren to be reactive.

Early Undercut Threats:

Force McLaren to cover, burning through their tires.

Sprint Race Aggression:

Treat sprints as micro-heists for precious points and psychological ammo.

Zero DNFs:

The math only works if Max finishes every single race.

Exploit Safety Cars:

Capitalize on Red Bull’s superior pit stop delta whenever free air is offered.

Psychological Warfare:

Amplify McLaren’s internal friction by simply

being there

, a constant, looming threat.

What truly separates Max is not just his speed but his control over tempo. He analyzes your natural lap rhythm and then systematically destroys it. Lando thrives in flow, Piastri thrives on precision; Verstappen erases both by forcing them into awkward corners, feeding them dirty air, and compromising their exits until their “perfect” lap is two-tenths too slow and their tires are screaming. That’s how the humiliation begins—invisibly, on the delta time.

McLaren has been magnificent this season; let’s not get it twisted. But the championship run-in is where teams pay the “two alpha drivers tax.” If Norris and Piastri continue to trip over the margins, their Sundays become about survival rather than domination. And survival is Verstappen’s favorite game.

So, ask yourself this: if the next race is disrupted by a single rogue yellow flag, and if McLaren’s pit wall splits its strategies just to keep both drivers happy, who really wins? Because momentum, psychology, and late-season racecraft all point in the same direction. Verstappen doesn’t need to have the fastest car every weekend; he just needs to be the most inevitable. From Italy to Azerbaijan to Singapore, he has made his presence feel exactly that. If McLaren blinks just once, this championship flips from papaya to blue. And that would be the most brutal humiliation of all—not a blowout, but a checkmate.