"This Guy is Dangerous"

The Mexico City Grand Prix foreshadowed a title fight defined by blurry ethical lines

Max Verstappen speaks with Lando Norris at the Mexico City Grand Prix. Photo by ALFREDO ESTRELLA/AFP via Getty Images.

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In 2022, Max Verstappen graced the cover of GQ with the headline “Athlete of the Year.” The Dutch driver had just carried his navy and crimson Red Bull, speckled with a growing number of sponsors, across the checkered flag in Japan, securing his second World Drivers’ Championship title five races before the end of the season. 

The article was met with backlash: That same weekend Verstappen collided with Lewis Hamilton’s Mercedes and refused to follow team orders demanding he let his teammate, Sergio “Checo” Perez, pass in Brazil. The “misunderstood driver” narrative following a reputation-damaging first world championship title fight was halted as spectators resumed a routine chant about Verstappen’s unsportsmanlike driving style. But then he went on to win his third trophy in an unprecedented 2023 season that threw him so far ahead of the rest of the field there was little opportunity for controversy. 

On Sunday, his aggressive image returned. 

When Verstappen received a 10-second penalty for forcing Lando Norris off track in turn four, the Red Bull driver scoffed on the radio, “10?! That’s quite impressive.” Then, Verstappen launched ahead of Norris at turn eight, veering off track in a move that immediately drew criticism. The FIA were quick to hit Verstappen with another 10-second penalty. 

“This guy is dangerous,” Norris told his race engineer over the radio. “I just had to avoid a crash. It's the same as last time."

The Mexican Grand Prix followed a tense week of debate around the legality of Verstappen’s defending against Norris at the United States Grand Prix. The Red Bull driver did not receive a penalty in Texas. 

Verstappen, and his team by extension, are often accused of working the referees via radio, faulting another competitor even if the blame lies squarely on the car donning a “#1.” And it has worked in his favor previously. When Verstappen won the championship in 2021, the race was anticipated to finish under a safety car following Nicholas Latifi’s red flag-inducing crash. However, the FIA’s race director Michael Masi resumed the race with one lap remaining. Verstappen overtook Hamilton to win the title. The decision was so controversial that some fans still refuse to accept Verstappen as the winner, instead deeming Hamilton an eight-time world champion. Masi left his position in 2022 after his decision to restart the race was found to be “human error.” 

The FIA has never quite repaired the subsequent reputational damage, even when it fined Red Bull $7 million and reduced the team’s wind tunnel testing time for exceeding the 2021 budget.

Hamilton’s criticism of the FIA’s decision in favor of Red Bull exacerbated mistrust. “This has been manipulated, man,” he said in Abu Dhabi.

But on Sunday, the 20-second penalty awarded to Verstappen sent more of a message of intent than anything. Nicknamed “Mad Max” after shoving Esteban Ocon in 2018, Verstappen’s reputation precedes him. "I could see a group of cars ahead, and I saw a plume of smoke, of dust, and I knew [who] it must have been,” Hamilton said on Sunday. From ending rivals’ races, along with his own, to inspiring racing regulations carrying his namesake, his aggressive driving style has often been met with a shrug, as if to say, “That’s just how Verstappen drives.” 

Perhaps Verstappen’s greatest tool is the psychological effect he seems to have on his rival racers. The rhetoric in 2023 was that he was unbeatable, with few drivers putting up an actual fight to defend against his RB19—more rocketship than car. 

And that’s also possibly the issue with Verstappen as a character in Formula 1: this idea that everything he does is imminent. If Charles Leclerc is Ferrari’s “Il Predestinato,” the predestined son who will carry on a legacy of prestige and self-sacrifice, Verstappen is the fated villain. As Fernando Alonso said, in the sport you’re either a hero or an anti-hero. 

But for Verstappen sympathizers and haters, his identity swings between victim and villain depending on who you ask. Branded as brash and brazen—a near-identical fit for the energy drink company adorning his coveralls—Verstappen’s actions are treated by both his supporters and dissenters as a certainty, a birthright. 

While portraying the 27-year-old as a victim, fans stitch together clips of a six-year-old Verstappen ensconced within a go-kart with a melancholic piano plucking in the background. News stories about his strict upbringing paint him as a misunderstood boy-turned-man who inherited his former Formula 1 driver father’s appetite for aggressive driving. 

And those who see a villain treat his reign and tactics to reach the top as nothing less than inevitable. Drivers swerve and brake to avoid the, also inevitable, collision that comes with racing Verstappen. 

“Max is kind of do-or-die,” Hamilton said in 2022. “It’s like you’re either crashing or you’re not going by.”

Even Formula 1 outsiders have portrayed him as someone with little free will: in a controversial Road & Track article, taken down quickly after it was published, Verstappen was called a foil, “one who reveals more about the characteristics of other people than a well-built character in his own right.” 

And what has Verstappen revealed about his title rival? That Norris is not Verstappen. 

"I've always fought fairly. That's who I am. That's who I am as a racer," Norris said. "That's my way of driving every day. Maybe sometimes I've lost out because I've been too fair and not aggressive enough. And that's where I have to find a better balance."

Verstappen’s tendency to be mouthy and not always politically correct has only solidified Norris’ boy-next-door persona: Last year, Norris was profiled in the Sunday Times where he was touted as the “woke, feminist face of Formula 1.” He is the driver tapped for mental health awareness campaigns and women in motorsport panels. His insistence on fair racing come Sunday sustained this reputation. 

I won’t pretend to know Verstappen—or Norris—because I don’t. A handful of paddock interactions in passing and group media sessions don’t leave much of a personal impression. As a journalist, I know it is part of the job to break down a subject’s walls and communicate an honest picture of their life and personality to a readership, but I also know Formula 1 often affords reporters only a few short minutes to get to know drivers. I’m skeptical of profiles that claim to declare Norris a feminist or Verstappen as misunderstood. Teams are also skilled at the illusion of relatability and accessibility, knowing that the pathos, or emotional appeal, around a driver can swing public opinion, especially through social media. One young woman I spoke to for a story in January told me she became interested in the sport through a slow-motion TikTok edit of Romain Grosjean. Another started disliking Norris based on X (formerly Twitter) commentary. 

Verstappen is, perhaps, the best example of the extremity of public opinion. But with big reputations also come large incentives to send a message and a big one at that. 

Whether Verstappen is a villain or a victim, the FIA’s 20-second ruling seemed to find a middle ground—one that has the support of nearly every driver. On Monday, George Russell, serving as the director of the Grand Prix Drivers’ Association, said that only one driver out of 20 was not in favor of the FIA’s racing guideline changes while the majority encouraged fair racing.