In the high-octane world of Formula 1, where egos are as fragile as the carbon fiber wings on the cars, admitting defeat is usually a bitter pill to swallow. Yet, as the sun sets on the 2025 season—a year that will be etched in history for its sheer unpredictability—Max Verstappen is offering a perspective that is as refreshing as it is surprising. After missing out on a fifth consecutive Drivers’ Championship by a microscopic margin of just two points to Lando Norris, the Dutchman isn’t throwing helmets or blaming the racing gods. Instead, he’s embracing a philosophy that separates the good drivers from the all-time greats.

The Greatest Comeback That Almost Was

To understand the gravity of Verstappen’s reaction, we have to rewind the clock. Midway through the season, the narrative wasn’t about Max winning; it was about whether he would even finish in the top five. Red Bull’s dominance had evaporated, replaced by a mid-season slump so severe that rumors swirled about Verstappen triggering exit clauses in his contract to jump ship to Mercedes.

At one point, with just nine races remaining, Verstappen stared down a staggering 104-point deficit. In modern F1, that is usually game over. The experts had written him off, the fans were looking at the McLaren duo of Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris as the only real contenders, and the energy in the Red Bull garage was arguably at an all-time low.

But then, the unthinkable happened. Verstappen didn’t just claw back; he went on a rampage. He overturned a massive chunk of that deficit, beating Oscar Piastri by 11 points by the season’s end—a 115-point swing that defies logic. He dragged a struggling RB21 to places it had no business being, securing 10 consecutive podiums in the latter stages of the year.

Yet, despite this Herculean effort, he fell two points short. Two points. The difference between a fifth title and second place could have come down to a single fastest lap, a single pit stop, or a single defensive move.

“You’re Either Pregnant or You’re Not”

In the immediate aftermath, one might expect devastation. But speaking to the media, Verstappen was the picture of pragmatic calm. His assessment of the season was devoid of the “what-ifs” that plague lesser competitors.

“I see it like this: We didn’t really lose it because we were never really in it,” Verstappen candidly told reporters. It’s a stunning admission. While the world saw a title fight, Max saw a rescue mission. “I think if you look at the whole season, we never really had a chance to compete because there were two of them [the McLarens].”

He acknowledges the fortunate chaos that allowed him to get close in the first place—the McLaren drivers taking points off each other, the strategy blunders, and the sheer unpredictability of the chaotic 2025 grid. “I don’t really feel like we missed out on anything,” he added, sounding more like a man relieved to have survived the storm than one grieving a loss.

When pressed on the agonizingly close margin, Verstappen dropped a quote that is sure to become iconic in F1 lore: “In the end, it doesn’t matter if it’s one point, half a point, 20 points. Not winning is not winning. You’re either pregnant or you’re not. You’re not half pregnant, right?”

It is a brutal, binary way to view sport, but it is precisely this lack of emotional baggage that makes him formidable. He refuses to dwell on the “missed opportunity” of the Spanish Grand Prix collision with George Russell or the technical gremlins early in the year. For Max, the math doesn’t lie, and emotional “almosts” don’t fill trophy cabinets.

The “What Ifs” That Defined a Era

While Max refuses to play the “what if” game, pundits and fans cannot help themselves. The 2025 season was a rollercoaster of specific, pivotal moments that swung the pendulum wildly.

There was the “Baku Implosion” at McLaren, where Oscar Piastri crashed out on lap one, and Norris languished in seventh—a golden opportunity that felt squandered at the time. There was the controversial position switch at Monza, and the “Papaya Rules” debacle that arguably cost Lando crucial points early on.

But perhaps the most significant twist was the double disqualification in Las Vegas. Had McLaren not fumbled the technical regulations there, Lando Norris’s victory lap might have been a cruise rather than the nail-biter finale we witnessed. History, however, is written in ink, not pencil. As the video analysis of the season suggests, if the rookie mistake by Kimi Antonelli in Qatar hadn’t happened, or if the “Papaya rules” were clearer, the trophy might have changed hands weeks ago.

Ultimately, Lando Norris is the champion, having navigated the pressure of his debut title fight. But the resounding takeaway from analysts is that Verstappen, despite losing, was arguably the best driver of the season, extracting 110% from a car that had lost its edge.

The Rookie Who Expects to Fail

As the page turns to 2026, the spotlight shifts to the man who will step into the cauldron alongside Verstappen: Isack Hadjar. The Red Bull second seat is widely considered the toughest job in motorsport. It has chewed up and spit out talented drivers like Pierre Gasly and Alex Albon, and crushed the morale of veterans like Sergio Perez.

So, what is Hadjar’s strategy? Confidence? Bravado? Surprisingly, it’s the exact opposite.

In a move of startling psychological self-preservation, Hadjar is publicly admitting that he expects to be slower than Max. “If anything, the goal is to accept that I’m going to be slower the first months,” Hadjar confessed.

It sounds defeatist, but it may be genius. Hadjar argues that previous drivers failed because they arrived with an ego, believing they could match a generational talent from Day 1. “Everyone thinks they’re special. Then you come in, you’re like ‘He’s a human, I’m going to beat him.’ Then you get stomped over, and then the snowball effect starts.”

By accepting his “rookie status” against a four-time champion (now runner-up), Hadjar hopes to bypass the mental spiral that destroyed his predecessors. He acknowledges that Max doesn’t just drive the car; he adapts to it instantly, a trait Hadjar knows he has yet to master.

“The chance that I’m slower at the start of the year is very high. I might as well accept it now and just work towards getting there,” he said. It is a humble, grounded approach that might just give him the breathing room he needs to survive in the shark tank that is Red Bull Racing.

A Winter of Reset

As F1 heads into the winter break, the dynamics have shifted. Lando Norris is the hunted. Max Verstappen is the hunter once again, armed with the confidence that his team can turn a sinking ship into a speedboat. And Isack Hadjar is quietly preparing for the biggest test of his life, armed with the shield of low expectations.

The 2025 season may have ended with heartbreak for the Orange Army, but if Verstappen’s attitude and Red Bull’s late-season resurgence are anything to go by, 2026 is already shaping up to be a war. And as Max would say, you either win the war, or you don’t. There is no middle ground.