In the high-stakes world of Formula 1, where tenths of a second separate heroes from the forgotten, a sudden and catastrophic loss of performance can feel like an eternity.

For Charles Leclerc and the legion of Ferrari Tifosi, the final stint of the Hungarian Grand Prix was exactly that—a baffling, painful eternity.

The Monegasque driver, once a beacon of hope for the Scuderia, watched his race fall apart in spectacular fashion, losing a jaw-dropping 42 seconds to rival Lando Norris in a mere 29 laps.

It wasn’t a simple mistake or a stroke of bad luck; it was a complex, cascading failure rooted deep within the technical heart of his Ferrari.

The mystery of Leclerc’s dramatic decline has been a point of intense speculation, but the truth lies in a confluence of two critical factors: an unforeseen issue with his car’s underfloor plank and a series of consequential, high-risk adjustments to his tire pressures that rendered the car fundamentally “undrivable.”

The first signs of trouble emerged much earlier than the final, disastrous stint. As early as lap 9, Leclerc’s race engineer, Xavier “Bosi” Padros, was on the radio, issuing a series of instructions that hinted at a deeper problem. Leclerc was told to make adjustments to his engine modes, torque delivery, and even his driving style. The reason? A plank wear issue, a problem that had apparently haunted the team earlier in the weekend, had resurfaced with a vengeance. The plank, a wooden board running along the underside of the car, is a critical component for regulating aerodynamics and ride height. Excessive wear can lead to disqualification, forcing teams to manage it meticulously.

Bosi’s instructions grew more specific and urgent. Leclerc was ordered to alter his RPM and torque settings, a clear attempt to mitigate the car’s “bouncing”—the violent vertical oscillations that slam the plank against the track surface. More critically, he was instructed to avoid the curbs at Turn 12, the fastest and most demanding corner on the Hungaroring. For a driver trying to extract every ounce of performance, being told to tiptoe through the quickest part of the circuit was a devastating blow. The frustration in Leclerc’s voice was palpable as he grappled with a car that was actively fighting him. His radio transmissions painted a grim picture, culminating in the exasperated declaration that the car had “lost all competitiveness.”

However, the plank wear was only the prelude to the main event. The real catastrophe unfolded during his pit stops, specifically with the team’s handling of tire pressures. In modern Formula 1, a car’s setup is a finely tuned ecosystem where every component—suspension, ride height, fuel load, and engine modes—is calibrated based on precise calculations. A central pillar of these calculations is the expected behavior of the tires, particularly their pressure. Tire pressure dictates the size of the contact patch—the small area of rubber that actually touches the track. A larger contact patch means more grip, while a smaller one means less.

The weekend had already seen tire supplier Pirelli mandate an increase in minimum pressures. Citing data from Friday and Saturday’s sessions, they raised the front tire pressures from 22 PSI to 24 PSI and the rears from 26.5 to 27.5 PSI. This initial change already forced teams to adjust their setups. However, Ferrari took this a step further. In a bid to manage the plank wear by raising the car’s ride height through tire inflation, the team decided to significantly increase Leclerc’s tire pressures even more during his pit stops.

During the first stop, pressures were reportedly increased by at least 1.5 PSI beyond the new, higher mandate. But it was the second and final stop that sealed Leclerc’s fate. While the exact figures remain a closely guarded team secret, the catastrophic drop-off in pace suggests the increase was even more substantial. With pressures potentially soaring towards the 30 PSI mark, the tire’s contact patch would have shrunk dramatically.

This decision had a devastating domino effect. All of Ferrari’s meticulous pre-race calculations for suspension stiffness, ride height, and aerodynamic balance were now obsolete. The car’s setup, which was designed for lower tire pressures and a larger contact patch, was now completely out of its optimal window. Leclerc was essentially driving a different car—one that was stiff, unbalanced, and devoid of grip. The problem was further compounded by the switch from the medium to the hard compound tire for the final stint. The hard tire is inherently more difficult to bring into its ideal operating temperature range, and with the reduced contact patch generating less friction and heat, Leclerc was caught in a vicious cycle of low grip and cold tires.

The result was the dramatic on-track struggle that the world witnessed. A driver of Leclerc’s caliber was suddenly struggling to keep his car on the road, his lap times tumbling as he wrestled with a machine that refused to cooperate. The 42-second deficit to Norris wasn’t just a loss; it was a public unraveling of a strategy gone horribly wrong. It was the culmination of a reactive, cascading series of decisions where one problem (plank wear) led to a solution (increased tire pressure) that created an even greater problem (a fundamentally unbalanced car).

In the aftermath, the incident serves as a stark reminder of the razor-thin margins in Formula 1. It highlights how a single, unforeseen issue can trigger a chain reaction that unravels an entire race. For Ferrari and Leclerc, it was a painful lesson in the delicate interplay between mechanics, strategy, and execution, proving once again that a race can be lost not just on the track, but in the complex calculations made long before the lights go out.