The dust had barely settled on the unforgiving streets of Baku before the questions started to cascade, each one sharper and more damning than the last. The Azerbaijan Grand Prix was not merely a poor race result for Scuderia Ferrari; it was a brutal, public exhibition of a deep-seated, structural fragility that has plagued the team for years.

Now, amplified by the symbolic weight of Lewis Hamilton in their ranks, the pressure has reached a critical, almost unbearable pitch. The most worrying revelation: Ferrari has essentially stopped developing the SF-25, shifting its focus entirely to 2026, leaving its two star drivers to compete for an entire season in a car its own designers have declared a “failed project.”

This tacit admission of failure, coming right after the season began, has framed the upcoming Singapore Grand Prix not as a normal sporting event, but as a definitive, high-stakes reckoning.

Marina Bay, one of the most demanding and strategically complex circuits on the calendar, is the worst possible stage for a car like the SF-25. It is where every weakness will be magnified, every setup error brutally punished, and every internal tension stretched to the breaking point. For Ferrari, Singapore is a sentence.

The Illusion Built on Sand: Baku’s Day of Collapse

The weekend in Baku began with a tantalizing, yet ultimately illusory, sign of hope. Lewis Hamilton, for the first time since joining the team, clocked the best time in Friday’s free practice. It was the fruit of intense work on correlation between the simulator and the track, momentarily finding a performance window where the SF-25 behaved predictably. Internal expectations soared; Ferrari believed they had a real opportunity to fight at the front.

However, this newfound trust proved to be an illusion built on a sand base. The qualifying session exposed the first symptoms of collapse. Hamilton failed to translate his practice rhythm into a competitive return, falling out of the fight for the front two rows. Charles Leclerc struggled equally, grappling to find essential grip in the slow sectors, the very place the SF-25 began to show its worst face. The car was unpredictable, suffering from overheating rear tires, and extremely sensitive to changes in wind and track conditions.

But the real disaster was reserved for race day. The moment the lights went out, Ferrari’s fragile plan crumbled. Leclerc reported a critical loss of power—a deficit of 2kW, translating to a loss of approximately 3 km/h on the straights. On a track where maximum acceleration is needed for over 60% of the lap, this difference was not a nuance; it was a sentence. Leclerc was powerless to defend or attack. His chances of scoring evaporated before the first pit stop.

The response from the pit wall was tragically familiar: slow and messy. While engineers scrambled to understand the intermittent power loss, strategic decisions fell into a known, destructive pattern: late, conservative, and poorly executed. Instead of embracing risk with an aggressive undercut or making crucial adjustments to the engine mapping, the team clung to a rigid, pre-race plan that failed to adapt to the changing traffic and track situation. That lack of flexibility sank Leclerc, who finished a chaotic ninth.

Hamilton, meanwhile, lived a parallel race of disappointment. Caught in a brutal DRS train following a strategic misstep, the SF-25’s already limited peak speed made it completely ineffective for attack. His eighth place finish was not only insufficient for points but also represented a lost opportunity to cement his influence within the team.

Racing a Ghost: The 2026 Shift

The truly alarming revelation came in the post-race atmosphere. Internally, engineers recognized that the SF-25 has fundamental limitations that cannot be resolved without a complete redesign of key components. The final, damning piece of evidence: a scheduled major update, including a new floor, was scrapped at the last moment.

This wasn’t a tactical pause; it was a white flag. It is a clear sign that the car is not only poorly conceptualized but is already considered a failed project. The priority has been irrevocably moved to the 2026 car, which will be developed under a new technical regulation.

This decision leaves Ferrari in a profoundly dangerous and untenable situation: competing a full season with a car that has been tacitly abandoned by its own team. From this moment on, any marginal improvement to the SF-25 will be superficial or logistical; the car’s fundamental structure will not change. They are racing a ghost, a machine whose potential has been capped by the very people who built it. Baku was not just a bad race; it was a brutal mirror reflecting the reality of an organization divided between historical expectations and technical realities, between the symbolic weight of Lewis Hamilton and the chronic inability to provide him with a competitive machine.

Marina Bay: The Ultimate Crucible

All this turmoil now collides with the hyper-demanding environment of Marina Bay, host of the Singapore Grand Prix. This circuit is notoriously unforgiving. It is one of the most technically challenging layouts on the calendar, combining narrow streets, high temperatures, suffocating humidity, and a track surface that constantly evolves throughout the weekend.

What makes Singapore a definitive test is its strategic implacability. Any technical weakness, however minimal, is relentlessly exposed. For Ferrari and the SF-25, Marina Bay represents a potential sentence: it will either demonstrate if there is anything at all left to rescue from the project, or it will confirm that this year is a lost one, buried permanently in the shadows.

The SF-25’s inherent flaws—its struggles with unpredictable traction, particularly in slow corners, and its sensitivity to thermal stress on the brakes and tires—form a perfect cocktail to unmask a poorly balanced car. The short braking areas, the need for precise application of power, and the demanding conditions mean that the SF-25, which has already struggled for consistency in intermediate temperatures, must now face a track whose operational window is extremely narrow and punishes any setup error.

Adding to the technical challenge is Ferrari’s historical Achilles’ heel: strategy. The Singapore race is notoriously unpredictable, defined by a high probability of Safety Cars, narrow pit stop windows, and highly variable tire degradation. It demands clarity, reactivity, and the ability to adapt decisions in real-time. Ferrari arrives with one of the worst operational records on the grid for exactly this kind of flexible, crisis-management scenario. The simulation tools have historically failed to give consistent results, and communication remains plagued by doubts, delays, and contradictions. In a race that demands surgical precision, Ferrari’s operational fragility risks condemning any ambition before Sunday even begins.

The Paradox of the Champions: Resignation and the Threat of Disobedience

The technical and strategic problems have pushed the team’s star drivers to a critical psychological point. Both Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc face a fragmented and tense internal environment.

Lewis Hamilton’s arrival was supposed to be the final, glorious chapter of his career, a chance to help resurrect the great Scuderia. Instead, he has found himself in a vortex of structural contradictions that have been dragging Ferrari down. His immense talent, his celebrated experience, and his ability to adapt are being, in essence, wasted in a project without short-term projection. His discourse has shifted from contained enthusiasm to diplomatic moderation. His body language is revealing: Hamilton is no longer leading with confidence, but with a weary, strategic resignation.

Singapore, therefore, is not just a test for the car; it is a leadership exam for Hamilton. His ability to manage the pressure, refine the car in adverse conditions, and maximize every available fragment of performance will define his role within the team for the remainder of the year. He can no longer afford weekends where his performance is compromised by an unpredictable car or erratic strategic calls.

Charles Leclerc, the prodigal son and symbol of Maranello’s renewal, loads a different, perhaps heavier, weight. He knows the SF-25 better than anyone, yet that familiarity has only brought frustration. He has witnessed the technical stagnation, the wasted opportunities, and the dilution of his own performance whenever Ferrari faces a circuit that demands flexibility. With the arrival of Hamilton, his symbolic status has been diluted; he now shares the responsibility but not the central narrative. If the results continue to fail, his position within the team weakens.

In Singapore, Leclerc faces a competitive limbo. He needs not only pure rhythm but tactical vision. It is no longer enough to be fast; he must be intelligent. Crucially, he must anticipate the errors of the pit wall, and, if necessary, be prepared to disobey orders that compromise his race.

Adding to his immense burden is a latent, yet terrifying, threat: the potential for a grid penalty. Following the intermittent power loss in Baku, engineers may be forced to replace the power unit as a precaution. In Marina Bay, one of the most difficult circuits to advance on, starting from the back would condemn any ambition instantly. Here, each position is won with surgical precision.

The Season’s Reckoning

The weekend in Singapore is now decisive, far more for its symbolic representation than for the points haul. If Ferrari fails spectacularly in Marina Bay, the season will be irrevocably divided into two eras: before and after the total collapse. It will be the definitive sign that the Scuderia has lost control of the present, clinging only to the future promise of 2026.

The drivers are trapped in a tragic paradox. Hamilton’s experience is being spent on an abandoned project. Leclerc’s loyalty is being tested by technical stagnation. If, against all odds, they manage to squeeze the maximum performance from the fragile SF-25 and achieve a result that defies the current narrative, it could mean a vital mood turning point for a team that has lived for years trapped between the crippling nostalgia of its past and the immense potential it has consistently breached. Singapore is the ultimate test of survival for a legendary team that has found itself racing against a ghost of its own making.