If one cannot mix Latin and Monty Python references on Pitpass, where can one?
If there was an award for "longest tormented metaphor" I like to think that over the years a number of my handcrafted offerings here on Pitpass would have made the podium. Vanity pure, of course. Thankfully I have the Southern Pitpass cat to keep me in check, and, naturally, Esteemed Editor Balfe to cure me of the worst of the "It's not funny Max" moments.
Which leads us to our latest reflection on the misadventures of Sir Lewis. Right now I think he would be quite cheered by the sound of two coconuts being knocked together at a rising-trot pace compared to the sword of sorrows which was his 2025 Ferrari ride. His own patsy (man servant) tip-tapping them together in Maranello regardless of the carriage by an African or European team of migrating Swallows.
Oh dear. The wider press has now shredded, strained, and placed under the microscope 10,001 reasons for the torrid season of Sir Lewis. Yet, like considering the, did Daniel Ricciardo simply "get slow" saga, are we overcomplicating a simple issue? Sir Lewis is over forty, he is a seven-time World Champion. He holds just about every record possible in F1. He also has a remarkable pile of folding stuff in giant iron-bound chests down at the local high street bank. He wants for nothing and has nothing to prove. Is respected by all those whose respect is worth having. So then... what is ailing ye Sir Knight?
Doesn't like the brakes. OK. Dislikes the steering wheel layout. Sure. Finds the "Ferrari ways of working" irritating. Who wouldn't? Has a team mate that smacks you down each race weekend with a smile on his face? Yup. A nightmare year for sure!
So, what to do? Monty Python's King Arthur chopped all the regular limbs off the Black Knight and strode with purpose into his next misadventure. Holy hand grenades, killer rabbits, yet more swallows, Bridges of Death. Bizarre mixing of concepts when getting rounded up by the rozzers in Rovers. Yup, King Arthur and Sir Lewis have much in common after their initial tangle with the Black Knight.
I'm not sure how, "I'm the true born king of all England", went as a defence down at the local police station. Probably about as well as "I'm the true born greatest driver ever!" goes down at the Ferrari race debrief. King Arthur is safe, buried in the Isle of Avalon, sticks, stones, and unsocial media can no longer hurt him. Sir Lewis is alive and kicking in the Circus Maximus of modern racing. Judgement obsessed critics, and influencers hurling arrows across the battlefield of modern F1, as crafted by the dark arts of Liberty Media. The Black Knight chasing Sir Lewis has regrown his limbs and has a mighty broadsword whirling around his head, rabid for retribution. This is going to hurt.
The season 2026 cars are going to be overpowered compared to their available grip when compared to the 2025 cars. More wiggle, more feel for the road. This should suit Sir Lewis. Except his new major problem being any other natural, instinctive, driver is going to welcome this newly returned feel in the car. Which means as Sir Lewis rises... so does Charles, a man often underrated as he has laboured through some dark years at Ferrari. One can only wonder what he would have achieved as V. Max's team mate.
Charles can really drive, make no mistake. So, if the 2026 cars prove to be as enjoyable, controllable, and adaptable to drive as people hope... well Charles is only going to be faster. Which is a problem for Lewis.
My belief is that, were Daniel Ricciardo still on the grid, that the 2026 cars would relight his fire. So, as a minimum with current drivers, we have V. Max, Alonso, Charles, George, Lando, Oscar, Sainz, and then Sir Lewis as the leading great drivers loving the new cars. Seven other drivers with ability, passion, commitment, and about twenty or so less birthdays - other than Alonso - with which to battle. Sir Lewis no longer has a single Black Knight to battle, he has a whole army of them!
What will happen? Well, the simple answer for us fans is; "wait, and find out." My guess? Lewis will go better in the 2026 cars than he went in 2025. But, like dear Michael in his Mercedes years, anyone waiting for a miraculous happy ending is probably going to be left feeling sad. I believe an 8th title is beyond Sir Lewis. Why? Because if the Ferrari is that good, Charles will beat him to the top spot. Second is the best Sir Lewis can hope for, unless Charles has a run of DNFs for whatever reason. Let's be honest, if the two of them are neck and neck, yet Charles runs off in the rain at Monaco, and then has a DNF in Brazil... if Sir Lewis is right behind him, well, he could sneak that 8th title, all assuming those other great drivers in the other great teams are nowhere to be seen because Ferrari has thrown them all in the shade. Do any of us think that's really likely?
I have significant respect for every driver that has ever sat on the starting grid of a Grand Prix. To make it to that moment is something of which they should all be proud. Many try, many, many more dream, yet very, very, very few make it. With Cadillac on the grid we have eleven teams fielding 22 drivers. We have a current global population around 8.2 billion. So 22 out of that number is 0.00000027% of earth's population. You've got more chance of marrying Taylor Swift, winning the lottery, and flying into low earth orbit than getting on that grid! Be very proud dear drivers, you are each a legend, you each deserve respect, praise, and smiles for what you have achieved.
Daniel was a smiling legend. Michael was a serious legend. Niki, James, Mika, Kimi... each had their own Black Knight to fight. Some days they won, some days it was "...just a flesh wound." Other days were darker. For me? Michael, Niki and James are giants of our beloved sport, though taking nothing from the deeds of Damon Hill or David Coulthard, or the sheer steel of Romain Grosjean to climb back into any sort of race car after his horror crash. I'd still be a melted mess hiding under my bed sheets if that had happened to me.
We shall honour them. Yes, Fangio, Moss, and Aryton are legends beyond reproach. I'm just sticking to the modern era for this article. The roll call of honour is long and filled with worthy souls.
Returning to the tree-lined edge of a Spring meadow, late afternoon, sunlight filtering through the early blossoms of budding trees, the Black Knight stands a vision of stoic violence. Sir Lewis approaches on his (Ferrari) black steed, draped in his red uniform. He is prepared to give it his all, painting the soft spring grass red with his blood if that is required for victory. Yet the Black Knight, pulsing with the bitter energy of the sands of time, is ready to grind him down and watch Sir Lewis' precious blood drain away with no little victories.
You can fight without ever winning, but you can never win without a fight. Sir Lewis is going down fighting. But that is no guarantee that he will ever win a championship again.
Max Noble
Learn more about Max and check out his previous features, here
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