The Mexico City Grand Prix was supposed to be a dazzling spectacle of high-speed drama and world-class driving.

Instead, the race has been indelibly marked as a day of controversy, inconsistency, and near-catastrophe, leaving Formula 1 drivers and team principals absolutely furious with the sport’s governing body, the FIA. What unfolded on the track painted a picture not of a finely tuned competition, but of a broken system where the rule book seemed to change from one moment to the next.

From the very first corner to the final, frustrating laps, the grand prix was overshadowed by bewildering decisions and safety failures. The main issue was not about who won or lost, but about the deeply rooted problem of inconsistent officiating.

The collective frustration among the elite F1 paddock centered on three catastrophic moments: a penalty that Lewis Hamilton called “nuts,” a terrifying moment when marshals nearly got hit by a speeding car, and a late virtual safety car that killed the most exciting battle of the afternoon.

Hamilton’s Fury: The Inconsistent Penalty That Broke Trust

The flashpoint that truly ignited the firestorm of criticism involved seven-time world champion Lewis Hamilton. Hamilton was locked in a fierce, high-stakes duel with Max Verstappen for third place. As he approached Turn 4, Hamilton locked up his brakes, was forced to go straight on, and subsequently rejoined the track ahead of his rival. The stewards’ response was swift and severe: a 10-second penalty for gaining a “lasting advantage.”

Hamilton’s immediate reaction over the team radio captured the sentiment of the entire paddock: “That’s such bull man,” he exclaimed. The frustration was understandable, even palpable. The reason for his anger wasn’t solely the penalty itself, but the sheer hypocrisy of the decision when measured against events that had transpired just minutes earlier.

Hamilton pointed out that his own teammate, Charles Leclerc, and his rival, Max Verstappen, had both cut the opening chicane at the start of the race. Leclerc even passed Hamilton by leaving the track and failed to give the position back—an action that looked identical in principle to the advantage Hamilton was penalized for. Yet, both drivers at the start escaped any punishment. “I was pretty much the same as all the other people around me. I’m the only one to get a 10-second penalty,” Hamilton later told the media, highlighting the undeniable double standard.

Ferrari boss Fred Vasseur echoed the confusion, questioning the severity of the sanction. “I don’t remember when someone took 10 seconds for similar incidents,” he noted, further emphasizing that Verstappen, too, had cut corners without consequences. While the FIA offered a technical explanation—stating that Hamilton was going too fast to use the proper escape road and therefore a penalty was necessary since he gained an advantage and did not yield the position—this technicality dissolved when weighed against the visual evidence of other drivers committing the same offense earlier with impunity. This stark difference in application is precisely what erodes the trust between drivers and officials.

“Lawnmower Racing”: The Chaos at the Start

The Hamilton incident was merely the climax of a pattern established right at the start. Mercedes driver George Russell perfectly encapsulated the initial chaos, angrily describing the opening laps as “lawnmower racing”. Russell and veteran Fernando Alonso watched in disbelief as at least five drivers, including Verstappen and Leclerc, blatantly cut the first few corners of the track and retained their positions.

Russell, who raced cleanly and took the corners properly, saw himself immediately disadvantaged. His radio messages grew increasingly furious. When his engineer confirmed that the repeated corner-cutting had merely been “noted,” Russell’s angry reply captured the helplessness many drivers felt: “Screw it, make a change. Noted is not good enough”.

Fernando Alonso, a driver revered for his hard but fair approach, was equally disappointed, pointing out the worrying trend: “It’s the second time in a row that on the first lap, in the first corner, the FIA is looking to the other side,” he declared. The message from the grid was clear: if the stewards refuse to enforce the rules consistently, drivers will inevitably push the limits and take shortcuts, leading to more chaos and a greater risk of danger.

A Terrifying Near-Tragedy: The Marshall Incident

If the stewarding issues were frustrating, the incident involving Liam Lawson was genuinely terrifying and exposed a complete failure of safety protocol. As Lawson exited the pits, he was confronted with a sight that stopped F1 fans’ hearts: two marshals running directly across the live racetrack in front of him.

Lawson’s horrified reaction over the radio spoke volumes about the split-second danger he faced. The marshals were attempting to clear debris, but to allow personnel onto a live track with cars coming out of the pits at full speed is a catastrophic failure of communication and safety management. Lawson immediately labeled the incident “unacceptable and so dangerous”.

The FIA promptly launched an investigation, stating that while they had cancelled the order to deploy marshals once Lawson pitted, they were still determining what went wrong after that point. The incident served as a chilling reminder of the inherent dangers of motorsport and how small the margin is between a high-speed race and an unspeakable tragedy. In a sport where safety is the highest priority, this breach was arguably the most serious indictment of the event’s management.

Excitement Killed: The Virtual Safety Car Anti-Climax

As if the race did not have enough controversy, the closing stages provided one final moment of frustration that left fans feeling cheated. Max Verstappen, running on fresh tires, had been on a phenomenal charge, closing a large gap to Charles Leclerc and setting up what promised to be a spectacular final battle for second place.

The stage was set for an exciting finish, with Verstappen just close enough to engage his DRS. However, just as the battle was about to begin, a Virtual Safety Car (VSC) was deployed to recover Carlos Sainz’s broken and smoking Williams. The battle was instantly over, neutralized by a procedure that prioritizes safety, but in this instance, felt like a disappointing anti-climax.

The timing was particularly convenient for Leclerc, who jokingly—but tellingly—admitted, “I was very happy to see the virtual safety car coming out. I think without it, there was more chance of Max getting past”. While Verstappen was diplomatic, saying, “Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, it’s how it goes in racing”, the overall feeling among spectators was that once again, rigid procedures had killed genuine on-track excitement.

The Problem: A Predictably Unpredictable Rulebook

The true tragedy of the Mexico Grand Prix lies in the fact that the problem is not necessarily with the rules themselves, but with their application. The difference in how the stewards treated the Turn 1/Turn 2 shortcutting versus Hamilton’s Turn 4 excursion is exactly what creates the current crisis of confidence.

Drivers are left guessing what will be allowed and what will be punished. The stewards’ inconsistent enforcement creates a situation where drivers feel they are not being penalized for breaking a rule, but for simply being unlucky with how the officials chose to view the incident at that specific moment.

This environment of predictable unpredictability has profound consequences. It encourages drivers to push the limits, knowing they might get away with it, which inevitably leads to more dangerous and chaotic situations on the track. Furthermore, it fosters anger and distrust, as drivers who conscientiously try to race fairly feel punished for doing the right thing.

The Mexico City Grand Prix was not a one-off bad race; it was a comprehensive showcase of the problems currently facing the FIA. The drivers’ collective fury was not about one bad penalty or one missed call; it was about a fundamental lack of clarity, consistency, and communication from the start-of-race chaos to the terrifying Marshall incident and the penalty that singled out one driver for an offense others committed freely. The trust between the competitors and the race officials appears to be breaking down.

The incidents in Mexico have served as a powerful, unified cry for change. The demands from the F1 paddock are now louder than ever: a need for more transparent, consistent, and above all, safer stewarding. The drivers have made their frustrations abundantly clear. The ball is now firmly in the FIA’s court to respond decisively and repair a system that many now view as dangerously flawed.