Verstappen's brutal takedown handed F1 a big headache for the new era

Formula 1 has never been more popular. It has never been more commercially powerful. And this week, arguably its driver told anyone who would listen that he is not sure he wants to be part of it anymore.

On Day 2 of pre-season testing in Bahrain this week, Max Verstappen delivered a verdict that nobody in the paddock wanted to hear. The 2026 cars, he said, are “not a lot of fun” to drive.

The energy management demanded by the new hybrid regulations feels “a bit more like Formula E on steroids”. The constant need to manage the battery – lifting and coasting, downshifting aggressively to harvest charge, sacrificing flat-out speed for electrical recovery – is, in his blunt opinion, “anti-racing”.

For good measure, Verstappen added that a winning car is no longer sufficient for him as he hinted, not for the first time, that he might quit F1 in the near future.

“It needs to be fun to drive as well,” he insisted, before suggesting he is “exploring other things outside of Formula 1” – and jesting that at least at the Nürburgring 24 Hours, “you can drive flat out without looking after your battery.”

If this were merely Verstappen being Verstappen – unfiltered, occasionally theatrical – F1’s bosses might be forgiven for absorbing the blow and moving on. The problem is that he is not alone.

Lewis Hamilton, now in his second season at Ferrari and harbouring serious hopes of an eighth title, has been increasingly candid about his concerns.

In Barcelona last month, he revealed that qualifying laps in the 2026 car already require “600 metres of lift and coast” before braking zones.

“That’s not what racing is about,” he said, before adding that the energy management systems are “ridiculously complex” – so much so, he feared, that “none of the fans are going to understand it.”

You need “a degree to fully understand it all,” he suggested.

Fortunately for F1, world champion Lando Norris has taken a rather different view – and has made little effort to conceal his impatience with the complaints.

Asked about Verstappen’s comments in Bahrain, Norris was blunt: “A lot of fun. I really enjoyed it. Yeah, if he wants to retire, he can retire.”

But Norris did not pretend the 2026 cars are without flaws. “It certainly doesn’t feel as quick as the past few years, and it certainly doesn’t handle as perfectly,” he acknowledged.

But he argued that drivers who have come to expect a particular kind of car are comparing unfairly. “I’m sure if he came into this and this was the F1 car he started driving, then he probably would say it’s amazing.”

And on the wider principle of drivers complaining about machinery they are paid handsomely to drive: “Any driver can go and find something else to do – it’s not like he has to be here.”

It is a fair point, as far as it goes. But it also rather illustrates the dilemma facing Formula 1 as it tries to sell the new era: its two biggest stars are pulling in entirely opposite directions.

Meanwhile, Haas‘s Esteban Ocon came away sceptical about one of the headline promises of 2026 – easier overtaking.

Having followed other cars during his running, Ocon reported losing “quite a lot of front load” and was careful not to endorse the optimistic projections about wheel-to-wheel action.

The structural problem

To understand what the drivers are reacting to, it helps to understand the two core changes that define the 2026 formula.

The first is aerodynamic: downforce has been slashed significantly, producing cars with less grip and, at this early stage of the development cycle, a notably skittish character.

The second – and more contentious – is the power unit architecture, which now mandates an almost 50/50 split between internal combustion and electrical power.

The battery’s contribution is enormous, but so are its demands. Drivers must constantly harvest energy to maintain performance, which means lifting early before braking zones, manipulating gear selection on straights, and managing a depletion curve over every single lap.

This is not the kind of driving that makes a racing driver’s eyes light up. It is, in essence, resource management.

And it is the inevitable consequence of a power unit specification shaped not primarily by the racing departments of the teams, but by the technology ambitions of the manufacturers who lobbied hardest for it.

The 50/50 power split was a condition of attracting new entrants – notably Audi – and retaining others. The racing consequences were, in some sense, a secondary consideration.

Still, there is genuine cause for optimism: the cars’ acceleration out of slow corners is apparently extraordinary, following another car is reportedly easier, and Norris himself has suggested the new rules could produce more chaos on track.

Charles Leclerc, too, has warmed to the cars during testing in Barcelona, calling them “super interesting.”

A different kind of scepticism

At the start of the ground-effect era in 2022, drivers also had major reservations that eventually became less of an issue.

But those reservations were largely technical and provisional – uncertainty about a new aerodynamic concept that was minimised once they experienced the real-world cars, even though by the end of 2025, most drivers agreed that they would not miss that era.

What Verstappen and Hamilton are articulating now is different in character. It is not uncertainty about unknowns, but rather a philosophical objection to what they already know: that racing drivers are being asked to manage systems rather than simply focus on driving.

There is also a commercial dimension that makes this particularly awkward timing.

Formula 1 has spent the last five years carefully constructing a new audience – younger, more global, more emotionally invested than any generation of fans before them.

Drive to Survive minted that audience. F1 has built a glitzy calendar around it. Miami, Las Vegas, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Madrid… all speak to a championship that has learned, at long last, how to sell itself properly.

During that period, Verstappen became F1’s biggest star. And now he is publicly auditioning his reasons for leaving.

The overlap between those two facts is not comfortable – and Norris’s suggestion that dissatisfied drivers are welcome to walk away is, whatever its merits as a philosophy, a difficult message to build a marketing campaign around.

F1’s instinct will be to manage the narrative – and to be fair, it has tools at its disposal. Testing is not racing. The cars will develop significantly between now and Melbourne. There is every reason to believe the 2026 season will be more watchable than testing suggests.