Hamilton blunt on Ferrari’s slide after Austin Sprint quali: “Eight‑tenths is a mountain”
Lewis Hamilton stepped out of the SF-25 in Austin with that familiar stiff-jawed look he wears when the stopwatch has told an uncomfortable truth. Eighth in Sprint qualifying, nearly nine‑tenths off Max Verstappen, and two places ahead of Charles Leclerc, was the ceiling for Ferrari on Friday. For a team that hasn’t seen a podium in the last five races, the numbers hurt more than the Texas heat.
“That was definitely not the pace we were expecting,” Hamilton said, flatly. Practice teased. SQ1 looked tidy. Then the grip—and the promise—evaporated. “It just started to fall away from us. The car is very, very tough to drive. I mean, eight‑tenths, that’s a mountain to climb.”
Ferrari got both cars into SQ3, but the final segment exposed the deficit. Hamilton finished 0.892 seconds adrift of Verstappen’s benchmark, while Leclerc settled for P10. Asked where the speed went, Hamilton didn’t dress it up: “No, I really don’t.”
You could sense the frustration beneath the poise. This isn’t a man learning a new team now; we’re deep into his first season in red and, as ever, Hamilton is straightforward when the package feels on edge. The SF-25’s sweet spot looks narrow, and on a circuit that rewards traction and rewards confidence over the bumps—and punishes anyone without both—Ferrari never found a rhythm they could trust.
There was a glimpse of pace earlier in the day, enough to raise hopes that Ferrari had brought a set-up that would keep them in the mix behind the usual Red Bull–McLaren arm wrestle. But as the track gripped up and the wind shifted, their lap times went the other way. When a car’s window is tight, every step forward comes with a jolt. You hit it, or you slide right past.
Hamilton’s debrief was as much about the next six rounds as it was about Saturday. “I’m really looking at the next six races as test weekends in terms of continuing to learn and improve on our processes,” he said. “There’s been a couple of gems through the weekend that we didn’t capitalise on. It’s about taking those good bits and continuing to take what works and change what doesn’t.”
That’s the line that matters for Maranello right now. Ferrari needs continuity as much as it needs lap time. Hamilton talked about relationships and communication, about squeezing every point available. It’s a measured tone, the kind that suggests the team knows where it must be stronger Monday to Friday before it can expect Saturdays to turn.
For all the headlines, P8 in a Sprint grid isn’t terminal. COTA’s long run to Turn 1 invites optimism, and Hamilton’s racecraft tends to find places that weren’t there a moment earlier. But you don’t work miracles from nearly a second back without help from fate or weather, and both look in short supply this weekend.
Leclerc’s side of the garage mirrors the same story: bursts of promise, then a ceiling you can’t ignore. If Ferrari can’t unlock balance on the medium and the soft, they’ll be defending rather than attacking through the Sprint and into Sunday.
The stark part is the trend line. A five‑race run without a podium isn’t a blip; it’s form. And while the field behind Red Bull and McLaren is living within tenths, the difference between fourth and eighth can be as simple—and as maddening—as a gust at the wrong moment or a tyre switched on one corner later than planned.
Hamilton, for his part, isn’t in the mood for sugar-coating or doom. He’s pragmatic. “Everyone back at the factory really deserves a good result,” he said. “That’s the sole focus: get good results, try to maximise, squeeze absolutely every point we can.”
Saturday offers an immediate test of that approach. Ferrari has tended to race better than it qualifies when tyre life swings its way. If they can keep the rear axle calm through Sector 3 and hold the line through the esses without the car snapping into its trickier traits, there are places to be made. If not, it’ll be a long, defensive shift in both the Sprint and the Grand Prix.
For now, the headline is simple. Ferrari expected more. The stopwatch didn’t agree. And Hamilton—never one to hide from a hard number—knows exactly how big eight‑tenths looks when you’re staring up at it.
