CHARLES LECLERC AND THE FERRARI FANBASE REVOLUTION

Since I started following Formula 1, I can’t recall another Ferrari driver receiving the kind of treatment Charles Leclerc enjoys today. The affection fans have for the Monegasque driver is immense—almost unconditional—placing him among the most beloved ever to wear the red suit. It’s not an entirely new phenomenon: Gilles Villeneuve is still revered decades later, and even Jean Alesi—despite a thin trophy cabinet—was celebrated for years.

This kind of passionate support has always been part of Ferrari’s story. But if we look at how the media tells it today, something has changed. In the past, newcomers to Maranello were greeted warmly, only to be met with harsh criticism the moment results began to falter.

Take Michael Schumacher, for instance. His every move was scrutinized, and even winning wasn't enough to silence the critics. At one point, the fact he didn’t speak fluent Italian was treated as a serious shortcoming. Kimi Räikkönen was often reduced to a caricature: cold, disinterested, barely engaged in interviews—yet he remains the last man to win a title in red. Then came Sebastian Vettel, surrounded by the aura of destiny, only to lose credibility after a single underwhelming season.

With Leclerc, however, we’ve seen a complete reversal. It’s Ferrari that’s constantly under fire, as if it's not up to the standard of its own driver. Leclerc isn’t the one being held accountable for performance—the team is. After seven seasons, this frustration has extended beyond the fans and into the world of pundits and journalists. Commentators and analysts now rally around Charles with a near-unanimous chorus: “Give this kid a proper car.”

The constant comparisons to Verstappen only fuel this narrative. There’s a widespread belief that Leclerc is the only one who could truly challenge Max—if only he had a car to match. But that belief rests more on potential than on results. So far, the only driver who has truly gone toe-to-toe with Verstappen in a title fight wears number 44.

The Imola weekend put this dynamic on full display. The entire race coverage seemed to revolve around Leclerc: frequent camera shots, bold projections, endless calculations about where he might finish. Some even had him in the fight for the win—despite Piastri, on the same strategy, being six seconds ahead, Verstappen enjoying a 30-second lead, and Norris set to pit with a safe margin. The decision not to switch to soft tires near the end was portrayed almost as a betrayal—until it later came out that Charles himself opted not to pit.

This kind of portrayal isn’t an isolated case. There’s been a noticeable shift in media tone: a growing bias in favor of the driver, even at the team’s expense. The mantra “just give him a car” has become a ritual, repeated every race weekend. And yet, if Verstappen had been driving the 2024 Ferrari, many believe he still would’ve won the championship. He likely wouldn’t have finished behind the Mercedes cars in Spa, or lost out to Piastri in Baku.

It’s clear Ferrari bears major responsibility for its recent shortcomings. In recent years, the team hasn’t fielded a car capable of challenging for the title from start to finish. But never before has there been such a united front from fans and the media in defending a single driver—so much so that the Scuderia has taken a back seat in its own story.

There used to be an unspoken rule: Ferrari comes before everything and everyone. Today, it almost feels like the team exists to serve Leclerc’s legacy. It’s a dramatic shift in perspective. And maybe it tells us more about the way how Formula 1 is experienced now.

© Simone Marchetti Cavalieri

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