It was supposed to be the glorious final chapter of the greatest story in Formula 1 history. When Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion and the sport’s most decorated icon, donned the legendary scarlet racing suit of Ferrari for the start of the 2025 season, the world watched with bated breath.

The photos of him arriving at Maranello were not just press releases; they were the coronation of a king returning to claim a final throne. The Tifosi roared, the Italian press swooned, and the promise of a record-breaking eighth world title felt almost tangible.

But fast forward to November 2025, with just two races remaining in the season, and that dream hasn’t just faded—it has been brutally dismantled, piece by piece.

The roaring crowds have been replaced by murmurs of discontent, and the celebratory headlines have curdled into scathing critiques. Lewis Hamilton isn’t fighting for a championship; he is fighting to survive what he himself has called the “worst season” of his entire 19-year career.

The Las Vegas Nadir

The collapse reached its absolute nadir last weekend under the neon lights of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. In a shocking display that left the paddock stunned, Hamilton qualified dead last. It wasn’t the result of a chaotic crash, a sudden engine failure, or a grid penalty. It was, terrifyingly, a matter of pure pace. For a man who has conquered every circuit and condition the sport has to offer, finding himself at the very back of the grid on merit was a humiliation that cut deep.

Hamilton’s post-race assessment was brief and brutal: “Horrendous weekend. Another one.” But behind those four words lies a season of unparalleled frustration. After 22 race weekends, the stat sheet reads like a grim obituary for a competitive spirit: zero podiums in a main Grand Prix. Not one. The “Sprint King” victory in China back in March now feels like a lifetime ago—a cruel false dawn that teased a resurrection that never came.

The Italian Media turns the Knife

In Italy, Ferrari is not just a racing team; it is a religion. And when the deities fail, the judgment is swift and merciless. For months, the Italian press offered Hamilton a grace period, blaming the car or acclimatization. But after Vegas, the mood shifted dramatically.

Enter Giorgio Terruzzi, a prominent voice for Corriere della Sera and a barometer for Italian public opinion. In a blistering column that sent shockwaves through the paddock, Terruzzi didn’t just critique Hamilton’s driving; he attacked his character. He accused the British legend of “shirking his responsibilities” and refusing to accept blame for the team’s struggles. According to Terruzzi, while the car is undoubtedly flawed, Hamilton has “more than his fair share” of the fault.

This is a dangerous turning point. When the Italian media turns from protector to prosecutor, the pressure inside Maranello becomes suffocating. The narrative is no longer about a legend trying to lift a struggling team; it’s becoming a public trial of a driver who, in their eyes, is failing to deliver on his massive salary and reputation.

Mixed Signals from Management

Caught in the crossfire is Ferrari Team Principal Fred Vasseur, a man desperately trying to keep the peace while the walls close in. Publicly, Vasseur has been Hamilton’s shield. Following the Vegas disaster, he insisted that the season wasn’t a “complete disaster,” pointing out that Ferrari was second in the Constructors’ Championship just weeks prior. He cited a litany of misfortunes—penalties in Mexico, a DNF in Brazil, and a “glazed brake” issue that hampered Hamilton in Vegas.

“We are struggling to have a clean weekend,” Vasseur pleaded, trying to shift the focus away from his star driver’s performance. He argued that when the car is poor, “you can’t blame the drivers.”

However, the unified front is cracking. While Vasseur plays the diplomat, his boss, Ferrari CEO John Elkann, chose a different approach. in a comment that felt like a direct rebuke to Hamilton’s vocal frustrations, Elkann publicly advised his drivers to do “more driving and less talking.” It was a stark warning: at Ferrari, the brand comes first, and public complaints are not tolerated, no matter how many championships you have to your name.

The Comment That Changed Everything

Perhaps the most alarming moment—the one that truly signals how deep the rot has set in—came not on the track, but in the media pen. After finishing a dismal 10th in Vegas, Hamilton was asked about his focus for the future, specifically regarding the fresh start promised by the 2026 regulations.

His response was chillingly candid: “I’m not looking forward to the next one.”

When the journalist clarified, asking if he meant the next race in Qatar, Hamilton shook his head. “No, next season.”

Let that sink in. Lewis Hamilton, a competitor known for his relentless optimism and “still I rise” mentality, openly admitted he is dreading his second year at Ferrari. He isn’t just disappointed; he sounds defeated.

Vasseur immediately went into damage control mode, telling the media, “We just have to calm down,” and dismissing the comment as post-race emotion. But the damage was done. The translation was clear: Stop spiraling. Stop dragging the team down.

A Legacy Under Siege

The tragedy of this situation is compounded by what is happening back at Hamilton’s old home. Andrea Kimi Antonelli, the rookie who replaced him at Mercedes, is currently on track to finish ahead of Hamilton in the championship standings. For a seven-time champion to be outperformed by a teenager in his debut season—driving the seat he vacated—is a narrative nightmare.

It raises the uncomfortable question that no one wanted to ask but everyone is thinking: Did Ferrari buy a fading star?

Unlike at Mercedes, where Hamilton had built over a decade of equity and goodwill, he has no safety net at Ferrari. He hasn’t won them six titles. He hasn’t built the team from the ground up. To the ruthless machinery of Maranello, he is simply an expensive gamble that isn’t paying off. He arrived expecting a title contender and received the SF25—a car his teammate Charles Leclerc has also slammed as the “worst” he’s driven. But while Leclerc is a son of Ferrari, protected by years of loyalty, Hamilton is an outsider who was hired to win now.

The Road to 2026

As the paddock heads to Qatar and Abu Dhabi to conclude this miserable campaign, three scenarios loom on the horizon.

In the best case, Hamilton finds a rhythm, salvages a podium, and enters the winter break with a shred of dignity restored. In the worst case, the spiral continues. If he finishes the season behind a rookie and continues to alienate the team hierarchy with his comments, the whispers of an early exit could turn into shouts by mid-2026.

The “Ferrari Dream” was sold on romance and legacy. But Formula 1 is a cold, hard business. In Maranello, legends aren’t born; they are tested, judged, and—if found wanting—discarded. Right now, Lewis Hamilton looks less like a king returning to his throne, and more like a man trapped in a gilded cage, waiting for the lock to break. The 2026 season was supposed to be the rebirth. At this rate, it might just be the end.