In the high-octane world of Formula 1, there exists a pervasive myth that has seduced fans and commentators alike for decades: the belief that smoothness equals speed. We are taught to admire the drivers who look like they are on rails, the ones who steer with the gentleness of a surgeon, and we view any sign of sliding or instability as a mistake—a loss of time, a loss of control. But what if this entire premise is wrong? What if the very definition of “perfect” driving is about to be rewritten?
The uncomfortable truth is that the widely accepted view of low-grip driving is a misunderstanding that blinds us to the genius of Max Verstappen. While the majority of the grid views instability as a danger to be avoided, the reigning champion views it as a playground. And with the radical 2026 regulations fast approaching, this distinction is no longer just a matter of style; it is becoming a matter of survival. The next era of Formula 1 is not going to level the playing field; it is going to expose it.
The Myth of the Smooth Operator
For years, the visual language of F1 success has been stability. A car that looks planted is a fast car. A driver who isn’t fighting the wheel is a master. Consequently, when fans see a car sliding, the rear stepping out, or the steering wheel sawing back and forth, they assume something has gone wrong. They think the tires are shot, the setup is bad, or the driver has overcooked the entry.
This belief system is exactly why Max Verstappen’s brilliance is so often misinterpreted. To the untrained eye, his aggressive, correctional style can look “messy” compared to the silky inputs of his rivals. But this is a fundamental error in analysis. Verstappen isn’t fighting the car because he’s losing control; he is manipulating the car to extract performance from a zone most drivers are terrified to enter.
Max doesn’t wait for the grip to disappear before he reacts. This is the critical difference. Most drivers feel the slide and then apply a correction. By the time they have reacted, momentum is lost. Verstappen anticipates the loss of grip before it physically occurs. He is already adjusting his throttle application, his steering angle, and his brake release while his competitors are still processing the initial feedback from the chassis. He doesn’t “save” slides; he prevents them from becoming terminal while riding the very edge of the traction circle.
2026: The Great Filter
To understand why this matters, we must look ahead to the seismic shift coming in 2026. The new regulations are not merely a facelift; they are a fundamental restructuring of how a Formula 1 car generates speed. The sport is moving toward lighter cars with significantly less aerodynamic grip and a power unit formula where roughly 50% of the total output comes from electrical deployment.
This change is catastrophic for drivers who rely on stability. The 2026 cars will feature active aerodynamics and a much heavier reliance on battery harvesting and release. This means power delivery will no longer be linear. Drivers won’t just be managing a smooth curve of acceleration; they will be battling “torque spikes” tied to complex energy deployment strategies.
Imagine trying to accelerate out of a corner when the torque delivery changes lap by lap, or even corner by corner, depending on the harvesting mode. The rear of the car will be unpredictable. It will snap, it will unload, and it will lose grip with little warning. The “planted” feel that smooth drivers depend on to build their confidence will effectively vanish.
In this environment, the driver who needs a stable platform to be fast is extinct. The driver who thrives in chaos becomes king.
The Art of Micro-Instability
This brings us to the concept of “micro-instability.” Data analysts and former racers have noted that Verstappen consistently runs higher average slip angles than his teammates without overheating his tires. This is a feat that borders on the physically impossible for most mortals.
A slip angle is the difference between the direction the wheel is pointing and the direction the tire is actually traveling. There is a “gray zone” of grip—a micro-state where the tire is neither fully gripping nor fully sliding. This is where the maximum lap time lives when grip is limited. It is a terrifying place to be because the car feels loose, floating, and on the verge of a crash.
Most drivers enter this zone accidentally and immediately back off to regain stability. Max Verstappen lives there. He deliberately balances the car in this state of micro-instability, using the rotation to straighten out his corner exits earlier. By rotating the car while it is “sliding,” he can point the nose down the straight and get to full throttle sooner than a driver who takes a smoother, more geometric line.
In 2026, when the cars naturally have less downforce and more torque instability, this ability to manage slip angle will be the defining factor of the world championship.
The Psychological Warfare of Grip
Beyond the physics, there is the psychological component. When a driver who relies on smoothness encounters a car with low grip, their confidence shatters. They begin to brake earlier. They get tentative on the throttle. They leave margin on the entry. Fear creeps in.
For Verstappen, instability does not breed fear; it brings clarity. His background—trained by his father Jos Verstappen on cold tracks, with worn tires, and often on slick tires in the rain—was designed to normalize chaos. He was not trained to drive around instability; he was trained to live inside it.
As we approach the new era, teams are already whispering concerns about “drivability.” Simulations suggest the 2026 cars will be livelier, with more potential for snap oversteer on corner exits. This is music to the ears of the Verstappen camp. When a car becomes harder to drive, the gap between the good and the great widens.
The Verdict
Fans and pundits often talk about regulation changes as a “reset” button that gives other teams a chance to catch up. They hope that 2026 will level the playing field. But the analysis suggests the opposite. 2026 isn’t a reset; it’s a filter.
It will filter out the drivers who have been flattered by high-downforce, stable cars. It will expose those who cannot adapt to non-linear power delivery. And standing alone at the front, in a car that everyone else describes as “undriveable,” will likely be Max Verstappen.
He isn’t just the best driver of the current era; he is the prototype for the next. While the rest of the grid wonders why their cars feel impossible to drive, Max will simply be doing what he has always done: finding control in the chaos. The uncomfortable truth is that low grip doesn’t make racing harder for everyone—it just makes the best driver more visible. And in 2026, that visibility might just look like domination.
