I Fell for the Drive to Survive Hype — Then I Realized F1 Doesn’t Race Anymore

It started innocently enough. I, a man who once crawled across hot sand as a sniper, dodged bullets, and deployed to combat zones, decided to unwind with something cinematic.

Enter Drive to Survive. The flash, the glitz, the ultra-close wheel-to-wheel duels—“Wow,” I thought, “this looks like combat…in a good way.”

I became a fan, but quickly I’m realizing that it’s really not much about racing anymore.

What I saw in modern Formula One was spectacle; precision engineering as performance art. I blinked, and the race was over before the first turn. Mostly, qualifying decides the podium; the rest is choreography. It’s why most of the announcers are turning to off-track commentary about so-and-so’s girlfriend and toy dog.

Here’s the rub: the drivers can still drive.

The cars are faster than ever. But the system is broken. The result? The thrill leaks, the drama fades, and the “battle” becomes a well-rehearsed routine. Last week’s blowout with Max was a yawn after turn one.

I’d challenge any one of these drivers to say differently.

• Max Verstappen (Red Bull) – The apex predator of F1: fearless, fast, and ruthlessly consistent.
• Lando Norris (McLaren) – Young gun with pure smile and pure skill. Smart, quick with feedback, and full of racecraft.
• Oscar Piastri (McLaren) – Meteoric rise, laser-sharp mind, future champion.”
• George Russell (Mercedes) – Under-rated, reliable, the kind of guy who keeps the fight alive when the team falters.
• Charles Leclerc (Ferrari) – Talent dripping out of him, passion on display, but car problems and strategy often bite him in the ass.
• Lewis Hamilton (Ferrari) – History maker. Living legend. Even in a compromised car, still a benchmark.
• Kimi Antonelli (Mercedes) – Rookie with nerves of steel (and a last name that echoes giants). Watch him.
• Alexander Albon (Williams) – Resilient. Had to claw back his seat. When he’s on song, he bites hard.
• Carlos Sainz (Williams) – Smart veteran, knows how to wring performance out of whatever machine he’s in. Should be a champion soon.
• Fernando Alonso (Aston Martin) – Still feral at 44. Shows the young guns how to race mentally, not just drive.
• Lance Stroll (Aston Martin) – Determined and improving. Perhaps still under the radar.
• Pierre Gasly (Alpine) – Calm, skilled, quietly getting on with it in the mid-pack.
• Jack Doohan (Alpine) – Young, talented, a name to remember as he grows into the seat.
• Esteban Ocon (Haas) – Tough as nails, proven performer when resources are limited.
• Oliver Bearman (Haas) – Rookie with fire in his belly.
• Yuki Tsunoda (Racing Bulls) – Flashes of brilliance, risk-happy, needs the car to match, but will likely get the boot next year.
• Isack Hadjar (Racing Bulls) – Raw talent, hungry, future in motion.
• Nico Hülkenberg (Sauber) – Veteran steady-eddy, brings experience and value.
• Gabriel Bortoleto (Sauber) – Young Brazilian hoping to unleash fireworks.
• Franco Colapinto (Alpine) – Rookie with ambition; the grid’s future is partially in his hands.

Each of these drivers deserves battles — real battles — not pre-arranged ballet.

And this is the issue: the cars, the regulations, the brains behind the scenes have locked the script so that qualifying sets the race and the first turn sets the podium. Once you’ve seen the front-row pole, you’ve seen the race.

That’s a shame. Because racing is about getting out of turn 1 alive and making your move when someone else thought it was over. It’s about surprise. Risk. Triumph. Let’s not kid ourselves: if F1 keeps down this path, the popularity spike will fade faster than the XFL, DVDs, Segway tours or any other novelty sport that flashed bright and then vanished.

It’s gotten so predictable that even the announcers sound like they’re auditioning for The View. Half the time, they’re gossiping about who was spotted in the paddock because there’s nothing left to call on-track. “There’s a slight lock-up from P16—anyway, have you seen the new hospitality suite Ferrari built?” It’s all canapés and camera pans until George Russell reminds everyone what’s gone wrong: “For all of the drivers, qualifying is the most exhilarating moment of the weekend.” Translation: the race is already over by Saturday. If that’s the thrill, then Sunday is just an expensive parade with better lighting. And when even the guys risking their necks admit the real fight ends after Turn One, you know the sport’s trading racing for red-carpet ratings.