Gianpiero Lambiase on life with Verstappen: “Deal with the nearest crocodile”
You don’t need to know Gianpiero Lambiase’s name to know his voice. It’s the cool, slightly deadpan line in Max Verstappen’s ear that cuts through the chaos on a Sunday. Fewer words than most, rarely any fluff, and never—ever—pandering.
That’s by design. In a recent Wall Street Journal interview, Red Bull’s long-time race engineer sketched a vivid picture of the Verstappen dynamic, one built on blunt honesty and a very short leash for nonsense.
“You’re on a boat down a river, and you’re surrounded by a whole load of crocodiles,” Lambiase said. “You’re dealing with the closest crocodile to the boat. That’s all we’re doing.” In other words: keep it simple, deal with what’s in front of you, and don’t get lost in the theatre.
It’s an approach that’s defined one of modern F1’s most productive partnerships. Lambiase—“GP” on the radio—joined Red Bull ahead of 2015 after cutting his teeth in F1 from 2005, and was assigned to Verstappen midway through 2016 when the teenager was bumped up from Toro Rosso. The checklists and setup sheets have evolved since, but the operating system hasn’t. Direct input. Fast decisions. Zero sugar-coating.
Verstappen, for his part, has always been wired for that. He doesn’t want a hype man; he wants a compass. “He’s very straightforward, blunt and honest,” Lambiase said, “but he expects that similar level of treatment back.” Try to soften the edges, and you won’t last long. “If you try to pander to him, wrap him in cotton wool, and try to be his best mate and be that yes-man, you will lose him within months.”
It sounds brutal. It’s actually functional. Race engineers are the only voice a driver truly hears once the visor drops. In that bubble, Lambiase says the role morphs into everything at once: “a dad, a sports psychologist, best friend, worst enemy.” When Verstappen vents on the radio—and he will—GP is the filter that turns the raw feed into action points, trimming emotion into execution without taking anything personally.
That explains why their exchanges can sound spiky on TV yet seldom spill into drama. The foundation is trust forged in real time, at 300 km/h, over hundreds of laps. The crocodiles never go away—tyres fading, strategy windows shrinking, a gust of wind at Turn 9—but the rules of engagement do. Clear messages. Honest feedback. No acting.
It also speaks to a wider truth in the Verstappen era. For all the headlines about car advantage and dominance, the invisible margins live on the radio. The right call on an undercut. The right nudge to cool the fronts. The right tone when the driver’s blood is up and the wall needs two more laps. Lambiase’s style isn’t just a communication choice; it’s performance.
There’s a reason Verstappen has repeatedly credited GP for cutting through the noise when it matters. Red Bull’s execution has been, more often than not, relentless. That doesn’t happen if the engineer starts second-guessing his own words. As Lambiase put it, “You have to do what is right for the team and driver at the time, and if you start being concerned about what you’re saying, then I think you’re lost in showbiz.”
Plenty of engineer-driver pairings work. Very few become their own competitive edge. This one has, and the blueprint is plain: radical candor, total clarity, and a shared intolerance for fluff. In an era where the margins are microscopic and the pressure omnipresent, Verstappen and Lambiase have made the most old-school thing in racing—trust—the sharpest tool in the box.
The crocodiles keep coming. So do the results.
