Sebastian Vettel has never struggled to sound philosophical, but his latest reflections on the Red Bull years land with a sting that’ll feel familiar to anyone who’s lived inside Formula 1’s relentless rhythm.
Speaking at an event in Germany, the four-time world champion admitted he didn’t truly take in what he and Red Bull were doing as it was happening — four straight titles from 2010 to 2013, the sort of run that turns into mythology before the champagne’s even dried.
“My dream was always one [title], then naturally, you go again and then there’s the next race,” Vettel said. “It’s a bit of a shame because you don’t enjoy the moment so much, because the next race is coming and you’re so focused on doing it again.”
That line, more than any highlight reel, captures what the best eras in modern F1 actually feel like from the inside: not celebratory, not comfortable — just urgent. Even when you’ve reached the summit, the sport trains you to treat it like a temporary loan.
Vettel’s Red Bull period is usually talked about in numbers: four championships, a conveyor belt of wins, dominance that reshaped the grid. He remembers it differently now. In the moment, the trophies were the objective; with distance, he says what lingers are the people and the atmosphere — “working with very gifted people mostly” — and the sense of shared hunger that powered the whole operation.
“For sure, the trophies and the championships is one thing, and is what people rate and see as success,” he said. “But I think later on, you sort of redefine what success means.”
It’s an understated reframing from a driver whose legacy is often debated in absolutes. Vettel doesn’t sound interested in litigating where he sits in the all-time list. He’s more concerned with what the sport took from him in exchange for what it gave — and, just as pointedly, what it didn’t.
“I think I’ve not left any burning bridges,” he added. “I made a lot of friends and had great experiences with people… It’s those sorts of stories that really make who you are, rather than what you did and you achieved in a certain moment.”
Asked to sum up his Red Bull career in a single word, Vettel didn’t hesitate: “Hungry.”
It’s a neat choice, because it doesn’t just describe him. It describes the ecosystem of that era — the edge that comes with being a team that still feels it has something to prove. Hunger is easier to maintain when you’re chasing. It’s harder when you’re being chased, when every weekend begins with expectation rather than possibility. Vettel’s point is that the mindset never really changes. You win, then the clock starts again.
His description of his Ferrari stint was different: “Passionate.”
Vettel moved to Maranello in 2015, intent on dragging Ferrari back to the top. The results were significant — 14 wins in red — but ultimately the title never arrived, and the mission that defined his decision remained unfinished.
“I met a lot of passionate people. I was very passionate,” he said. “We weren’t as successful as we set out to be, but still, I think it was a great time.”
There’s no bitterness in that assessment, and no revisionist attempt to dress it up as a triumph. It reads like the honesty of someone who’s had enough time away from the paddock to separate personal meaning from public judgement. In F1, it’s easy to have your career reduced to a binary: champion or not, success or failure, legend or “what if”. Vettel is pushing back against that framing — not defensively, just matter-of-factly.
And then there’s the line that feels like the clearest insight into how he’s chosen to live with his own past. When asked, as he so often has been, to pick his best race, Vettel said he’s never been comfortable with the question. Not because he lacks candidates, but because the exercise itself implies the best is behind you.
“At some point, I came up with the answer that the best one is still to come,” he said. “That has become my mantra, that the best day, or the best race, is still to come, looking forward. Because otherwise, what do you look forward to if you always look back.”
It’s a quietly revealing thought from a driver whose career was defined by intensity — the kind that wins you championships, but also narrows your field of vision to whatever’s next. Vettel’s admission isn’t that he didn’t care. It’s that caring, in that environment, becomes a kind of tunnel.
Maybe that’s the real cost of dominance in Formula 1: when you’re in it, you don’t get to feel it. You’re too busy trying to make sure it doesn’t stop.
