The air in the Singapore paddock was thick not with humidity, but with a palpable tension radiating from the Ferrari garage.

The Marina Bay Street Circuit was supposed to be a turning point, a place for the legendary Scuderia to reclaim some semblance of pride in a season marred by inconsistency and disappointment.

Instead, it became the stage for a dramatic implosion, where simmering frustrations boiled over in front of the world’s cameras, revealing a team on the brink of a full-blown crisis. The furious expressions of Lewis Hamilton and the despairing words of Charles Leclerc painted a damning picture, one that Team Principal Frédéric Vasseur could no longer dismiss.

Ferrari is not just losing races; it is in danger of losing its very soul.

The weekend began with a fragile sense of optimism, but the cracks appeared almost immediately. From the first practice sessions, the SF-25, Ferrari’s challenger for the season, was a handful. Drivers reported it felt unstable, lacking grip, and treacherously difficult to control on the demanding street circuit. The hopes for a podium finish quickly evaporated. As the starting lights went out, the team’s problems escalated dramatically. Hamilton found himself mired in the midfield pack, unable to make progress, while Leclerc fought a losing battle to keep his car pointed in the right direction. Throughout the grueling race, both world-class drivers were reduced to wrestling with their machines, their immense talent rendered useless by a car that refused to be tamed.

The final results were nothing short of a humiliation for a team of Ferrari’s stature. Leclerc managed a sixth-place finish, a testament to his skill rather than the car’s performance. Hamilton, after receiving a five-second penalty and battling a near-catastrophic brake failure, limped home in ninth. But the real drama unfolded after the checkered flag. In a post-race interview that immediately went viral, a visibly shattered Charles Leclerc delivered a verdict that sent shockwaves through the Formula 1 community. “We’re just passengers in this car,” he stated, his voice laced with a despair that cut deeper than simple disappointment. “We can’t do anything.”

That single word, “passenger,” has become the haunting symbol of Ferrari’s 2025 campaign. It speaks to a complete loss of control, a profound disconnect between the driver and the machine. Leclerc elaborated on the feeling of helplessness, describing how both he and Hamilton lacked any confidence in the car’s performance from one moment to the next. The SF-25, once hailed as the prancing horse’s revival, was now being exposed as an untamed, unpredictable beast. “There has been no real progress since the beginning of the season,” Leclerc confessed, his frustration evident. “Every weekend we arrive with new hopes, but the results are always the same. Understeer in slow corners, loss of rear grip, tires that overheat quickly. We’ve run out of direction.”

Meanwhile, Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion who had embarked on his Ferrari journey with boundless enthusiasm, is seeing his patience wear thin. While maintaining a calmer public facade, his words carried a heavy weight of exhaustion and disillusionment. “We gave everything we had, but the car just wasn’t up to par,” he admitted, acknowledging the harsh reality of their situation. For Hamilton, who is accustomed to the clinical efficiency and relentless development of Mercedes, the chaotic environment at Ferrari is reportedly a culture shock. He feels for the team members but cannot hide the fact that a team with such incredible resources and history is lagging so far behind its rivals. This debut season is proving to be a severe test of his conviction and a brutal introduction to the immense challenge of turning Ferrari’s fortunes around.

The root of this on-track misery lies in a design philosophy that has spectacularly backfired. The SF-25 was an ambitious project, the result of Maranello’s engineers working tirelessly to create a car that was both stable and aggressive. A novel suspension design was intended to fix Ferrari’s long-standing weaknesses in slow corners and with tire degradation. However, the experiment failed. The car became too stiff, losing its balance in technical sections and struggling to adapt to changing track temperatures, a fatal flaw in a place like Singapore. An insider from Maranello bitterly described the predicament: “Managing this car is like tuning a piano with a few missing keys.” Every attempted fix seems to trigger a domino effect of new problems. Increasing downforce adds crippling drag; improving stability dulls the steering response. The result is a car that can produce a flash of brilliance over a single qualifying lap but falls apart over the course of a long race—a fatal combination in modern Formula 1.

This technical nightmare has fostered a toxic atmosphere within the team’s hallowed Maranello headquarters. Sources describe the mood as the lowest it has been in over a decade. Engineers and technicians are reportedly disoriented, and a critical breakdown in communication has occurred between the drivers, the engineering department, and the senior management. Leclerc is said to be immensely frustrated by the slow technical response, while Hamilton is shocked by the lack of disciplined coordination. “Too many voices, too much direction, but no leadership,” one source confided to the Italian media, painting a picture of a rudderless ship caught in a storm.

At the center of this storm is Team Principal Frédéric Vasseur. The pressure on him is immense, and the notoriously critical Italian press has been relentless in its attacks, labeling his team a “shadow of its former glory.” In a recent press conference, Vasseur finally addressed the crisis with a rare degree of candor. He did not deny the problems, admitting, “Yes, we are in a difficult moment. The car isn’t meeting expectations, and we won’t make excuses. Our rivals are developing faster, and we haven’t found a stable direction.” He expressed understanding for his drivers’ frustrations but insisted the team was not giving up, vowing to review the entire design philosophy. Yet, even as he spoke with resolve, a quiet, heavy admission slipped out: “Ferrari must not lose its soul. But I admit that in recent months, we have come close to losing it.”

This crisis extends far beyond the paddock and the factory walls. It has inflicted deep psychological wounds on the Tifosi, Ferrari’s global legion of fiercely loyal fans. On forums and social media, voices of disappointment are growing louder and more desperate. Many have already written off the 2025 season, pinning their hopes on the major regulation changes in 2026 as the only potential salvation. This collective loss of faith underscores the severity of the team’s decline. For Hamilton and Leclerc, the path forward is uncertain. The Monegasque driver, once the cherished face of Ferrari’s future, now looks tired and full of doubt. Hamilton, the seasoned champion, faces a monumental choice: does he fight to change the system from within, or does he simply wait for a new era to hopefully wash away the current dysfunction?

With six races still remaining, Ferrari is at a crossroads. Can they salvage anything from the remainder of the season, or must they accept that their problems are rooted in a deep structural flaw that simple upgrades cannot fix? The gleaming red car still symbolizes a century of racing pride, but inside, a storm is raging—one that threatens to destroy the trust between its drivers, the motivation of its engineers, and the very identity of the most iconic team in Formula 1 history. This is more than a bad season; it’s an existential crisis. And the world is watching to see if the prancing horse can be saved before it collapses entirely.