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Lewis Hamilton, a little emotional, ran through a roll call of the benefactors and supporters who propelled him towards his 300th grand prix on Sunday.
It’s strange what an unexpected second place and beating your team-mate, George Russell, into third does for morale during a season horribilis.
Prior to the race, mention the triple century and Hamilton responded like a Trappist monk, but post-podium it was like An Audience with Lewis.
Max Verstappen celebrates on the podium alongside Lewis Hamilton following the race
That was one side of the French Grand Prix here under a fierce sun. Poor Charles Leclerc represented the other. He should have won, only to spin his Ferrari mid-corner, a mistake so unnecessary he left the Paul Ricard Circuit vowing to lock himself away at home.
It is to be hoped nobody offers him a whisky and revolver, because he knows his schoolboy error may cost him the title. He even questioned whether he deserves to wear the crown.
His slip into the tyre barriers at the fast Turn 11 corner, Le Beausset, gifted Max Verstappen his seventh win of the season. So from 38 points adrift at the start of the day, Leclerc is now 63 off Verstappen. That is two-and-a-half wins apart.
Ferrari really are unfathomable. Despite groaning riches and unsurpassed heritage, they regularly shoot themselves in the foot. This season alone they have pulled off the unholy trinity: unreliability, strategy botches and driver boobs.
That manual was written in Maranello.
Why? A singular theory was advanced by one of their former champions, the late Niki Lauda, when I asked why Michael Schumacher’s glory-soaked era had not been backed up with more success.
‘They are too Italian,’ he said. Alluding to Schumacher, technical chief Ross Brawn and the predominantly native workforce, Lauda added: ‘Then, you had the Teutonic influence: clear, unbending. The English acted as the bridge. Italy is all about romance and spaghetti.’
If anyone ever cared less for what we now…
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Source : dailymail
