![Max Verstappen: The Inside Track on a Formula One Star Max Verstappen: The Inside Track on a Formula One Star](https://trangangolf.storage.googleapis.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/23150242/412962084_779100577563268_3371857793184435682_n.jpg)
CONTENTS
Title Page
Prologue
1: Born to race
2: A Dutch flag on a Belgian racer
3: Dad, the worst boss in the world
4: A video gamer in real life
5: Like a duck to water
6: Emerging from his father’s shadow
7: From teenage angst to single-seaters
8: Catching the eyes of the F1 grid
9: Red Bull win the race for Max
10: Teammate struggles
11: Critics are there to be proven wrong
12: In pursuit of history and more
13: A true rival to Lewis
14: King of the world
15: Domination
Max Verstappen professional racing record
Acknowledgements
Plates
About the Author
Copyright
vii
PROLOGUE
‘We need a miracle.’
Red Bull boss Christian Horner meant it. Max Verstappen was trying to chase down Lewis Hamilton in the final stages of the most dramatic title race of the modern era, the two drivers perfectly level on points before the race but the British driver now ahead on the track. In the stands, thousands of orange-clad Dutch fans with nails bitten down to the quick clasped their hands together in prayer to whatever deity they thought could bring the intervention that Max needed to close the gap.
On that day, Mercedes had the faster car. Abu Dhabi had often been a place they had dominated the racing, but Red Bull had been close enough for Verstappen to pinch pole position on Saturday. Hamilton, though, produced the perfect start off the line and surged into the lead, despite running on the harder medium tyre. Max’s soft tyre should have given him an early advantage, but Hamilton had cancelled it out. Formula One is a sport of compromise: reduce downforce for speed on the straights and you will have less grip in the corners; spend more money on a driver and you will have less to develop the car; pit for fresh tyres and be faster or stay out and maintain track position but with slower rubber.
Tyre strategy is crucial: softer tyres are faster but don’t last as long, so Max knew he had to make the first part of the race count. Running behind Hamilton was not part of the plan and viiiwould end in defeat. He lunged down the inside of the hairpin. For weeks, the chatter in the paddock had been about how aggressive Max would be in the final race of a season that will be remembered by many for a series of crashes between him and Hamilton. Just six corners in, Verstappen showed that once again, no quarter would be given.
Hamilton, knowing a crash that ended both their races would hand Verstappen the title, veered away from the corner. In Monaco he would have hit the wall. In Silverstone he’d have beached in a gravel trap. But in Abu Dhabi there is endless space. He circumvented turns six and seven, effectively going straight on. Max drove the track as it was intended and emerged from the corners more than a second behind Hamilton. His left thumb slammed down on the radio button.
‘He has to give that back,’ Max pleaded on the radio, a message less for his team and more for race director Michael Masi, the much-maligned referee of such incidents. The Australian disagreed and Hamilton continued in the lead. Red Bull’s lawyers scribbled furiously. Mercedes’ probably did too. No one was under any illusions about whether there would be a protest after the race. There would almost inevitably be a protest. It was simply a matter of who would be protesting what. Both hoped it would be the other.
And for the majority of the race, even as Sergio Perez played an invaluable pawn role in holding up Hamilton to bring Max back within a few seconds of the lead, it looked as though Mercedes would be celebrating and Red Bull would be litigating late into the Middle Eastern night and beyond.
Then, the miracle. Nicholas Latifi, who finished 17th in the World Drivers’ Championship, may never again have such a seismic impact on a world title race. The Williams driver hit the ixbarriers with five laps to go, blocking the track and bringing out the safety car. It eradicated Hamilton’s lead and allowed Max to dive into the pits for fresh tyres.
But Red Bull needed a little more of the miracle dust. There were still a number of back-markers who, by coincidence, had been caught between Hamilton and Verstappen in the safety car queue. They formed a protective barrier for Hamilton, who was probably starting to plan the acceptance speech that would see him crowned a record-breaking eight-time world champion.
Fate though had one final twist for him. Race director Masi ordered the lap cars to unlap themselves, but only those who were at risk of interfering in the race for victory. Had he ordered all of those behind Verstappen to follow as well, the race would have ended behind the safety car. There simply was not time to complete all the protocols. Hamilton would win the title ahead of Verstappen at 70 miles an hour. There would be more drama at the roundabout outside the circuit. Masi would not have it. He made a call. The safety car pulled in with a lap to go and the two mighty drivers were given a minute and a half to sort out the small matter of who would take the world title. It was a sudden death situation, the like of which Formula One has never seen and may never see again. The ultimate test of nerve.
On the pit wall, nerves, fingernails and race plans were long since lost. Mercedes boss Toto Wolff, an increasingly animated figure as the year wore on, was straight on the radio to Masi.
‘Michael, this isn’t right,’ Wolff said. He knew that Hamilton had old tyres and Verstappen new ones. It would take yet another miracle for the Mercedes driver to hold him off.
Things were no less tense next door in the Red Bull garage. While Wolff tends to sit at a monitor in the garage, Horner prefers to be up on the pit wall with Adrian Newey, whose xtechnical brilliance has been at the heart of so much success at Red Bull, sitting on his left. Horner’s eyes were on stalks, as wide as if he himself were driving the car, scanning the countless screens with every possible piece of data for any signs of trouble or opportunities for advantage. The truth was that there was nothing he could do. It was up to Max.
The driver himself was virtually silent. He had a few moments earlier voiced his frustrations at the ‘typical’ decision not to let the cars unlap themselves and give him a shot at Hamilton. As they moved out of the way, there was a mutual understanding on the airwaves of what this meant. His engineer Gianpiero Lambiase calmly talked him through the engine modes required for the final lap. After giving his technical instructions, he simply said: ‘This is it.’ 90 seconds later, he was screaming:
‘OH MY LORD, MAX.’
Max’s response was an unintelligible cry of pure emotion, the kind that had not been building for just a few seconds, minutes or hours, but for a lifetime. From practically the minute he was born, Max’s life had been leading to this point.
This is the story of how he got there.
1
1
BORN TO RACE
In a sport governed by the stopwatch, having a good sense of timing is important. Max Verstappen has never lacked that. Even his birth was conveniently timed.
With a due date at the beginning of October, it was likely that his mother Sophie Kumpen would have to rely on friends and family for support in the days after giving birth to her first child, rather than husband Jos. This was not because he didn’t want to be there, but because it was a busy time of year for a full-time F1 driver that would include the longest trip of the season to Japan.
Instead, Jos happened to be racing at the Nürburgring on 28 September 1997 while his wife crossed her legs at home in Belgium. He had been looking to challenge for a rare top ten finish for Tyrrell before he retired from eleventh place, seventeen laps from the end of the race. Some joked that he was hoping to get an early start on the 124-mile trip back to Belgium so as not to miss the birth of his son – he had already driven further than that on the track before being forced to leave his car parked at the side of the road. Fortunately for both parents, Max was born 2on 30 September 1997, two days after the Luxembourg Grand Prix. Even if he had been forced to drive his ailing Tyrrell home, Jos would have made sure that he made it back in time.
Max Emilian Verstappen seemed to be a healthy enough baby. Jos’ personal website, which remarkably existed way back in the late 1990s, records the birth in oddly forensic detail: his son’s weight was seven pounds, two ounces, his length 48.5 centimetres long and the delivery lasted just 40 minutes. Max, to quote, ‘had chosen the right moment to come out’. It goes on to predict that ‘if Max has inherited the racing talents of both his parents, a new F1 driver for the year 2020 has been born’. The prescience of that comment, which turned out not to be optimistic enough when you consider that Max made his F1 debut four years earlier than that, was not merely the exuberance of a new father. The racing pedigree of Verstappen Junior was impressive. That said, Jos was not overly enamoured with the trials of early fatherhood.
‘I have to say, the first year I wasn’t really into babies,’ Jos said in a 2021 documentary. ‘They don’t do very much.’ He added with a smile: ‘I was no expert when it came to changing nappies.’ His expertise lay on the track, he felt.
Jos had two nicknames in his career: ‘Jos the Boss’ and ‘Vercrashen’. Between them, they rather succinctly sum up how he was viewed by the racing community, as a strong, dominant character with a boot full of talent but an unfortunate habit of ending races in the wall.
Jos grew up a few miles from Hasselt, where he raised Max, across the border in the Dutch town of Montfort. He had come up through karting from the age of eight with no shortage of speed, and in 1984 and 1986 he won the Dutch Championship. In the modern era he might have been fast-tracked into a driver academy or one of the larger teams with seats in various series. 3Perhaps due to a lack of funding or political influence though, or just because he was such a talented karter and thoroughly enjoyed the success at that level, he was content to remain on the karting track until much later. Whatever the reason, Jos did not make the transition into car racing until he was nearly twenty. In those teenage years he went from winning national championships in the Netherlands and in Belgium to Continental ones; by the end of 1991, his victories could not be ignored any longer.
Triumphs in the 1993 Marlboro Masters (a Formula Three race day held at the famous Zandvoort Circuit) and the German Formula Three Championship in the same year earned him the chance to test an F1 car for a team then known as Footwork, although Arrows is how most race fans will remember them. They put him in their car at Estoril the day after the Portuguese Grand Prix, his first ever drive in the monstrous V10 engines that were prevalent at the top of motor sport at the time. It was a tremendous step up in pace for Jos, having only driven in F3 before jumping into the Footwork in 1993. He was going from 175 brake horsepower to 750, more than four times as much power under his right foot, as well as having to deal with a semi-automatic gearbox, traction control and carbon brakes. The extra speed through corners alone would make most drivers’ necks ache with G-force. Nevertheless, Jos the Boss took to it like a duck to water.
In his very first fifteen-minute run, he was on pace with the backmarkers of Sunday’s Grand Prix. After another five minutes on track he had matched Aguri Suzuki, the man usually behind the wheel of the car he had been given.
‘I must say I thought it would be quite difficult, the jump from F3 to F1,’ Jos told reporters at the time. ‘But really, it was not so difficult. On the first lap I thought, ‘Shit!’ I never thought it would be so fast. But by the third lap I was really enjoying it; it 4was fantastic. After ten to fifteen laps it feels normal and you find yourself wanting more. Still, it’s very fast.’
By the end of the day, in which he logged 65 laps and was left with a sore neck and shoulders, he produced a lap time that would have qualified him tenth on the grid if he had done it a few days earlier. He was only 0.07 seconds slower than Derek Warwick, Footwork’s lead driver with twelve years of F1 experience.
Even in that very first experience of F1 though, the watching media were treated to a reminder of the two-faced nature of speed. Verstappen returned on Thursday, still sore from his efforts two days before, and while he immediately started punching in lap times, he then lost it through the high-speed final sector and spun into the barriers. It signalled a premature end to the day – but it did not appear to do much to dampen the excitement around the name Verstappen. The phone started to ring off the hook.
‘We had contact with … most teams,’ Jos said in a revealing 2019 Beyond the Grid podcast appearance. ‘We did a day of testing with McLaren at Silverstone, we had contact with Eddie Jordan, Flavio [Briatore, boss of Benetton].’
Eventually, Jos chose what he felt was the secure option above all else, signing for Benetton because they offered him a two-year contract rather just a one-year deal. Initially, he was supposed to be a test driver in 1994 but when JJ Lehto broke his neck in a pre-season crash, Verstappen made his debut at the Brazilian Grand Prix alongside one Michael Schumacher. His meteoric rise, having spent barely two years in professional racing driving, was eerily similar to what his son would achieve two decades later.
Jos’ debut was no fairy tale. He had plenty to prove after Schumacher had out-qualified him by nearly two seconds to start second on the grid with Verstappen seven places behind 5him. Caught up in a frantic midfield battle for eighth place, he pulled out to overtake Eddie Irvine 36 laps into the race, only for the Jordan to move over to lap a backmarker, unaware he was being challenged, and collide with him. In a terrifying scene, Verstappen was powerless to stop his spinning car which then hit the braking McLaren of Martin Brundle and was thrown into the air, completing a full barrel roll before hitting the tarmac again and skidding off into the barriers. Remarkably, no one was seriously hurt, despite Brundle’s helmet splitting, so great were the forces involved.
‘I was never scared and it didn’t hurt my confidence at all. I never had a problem with that,’ Jos said with typical bravado.
He spun out of his second race too – ‘every time I was trying to match Michael’s pace, [the crashes] never stopped me trying’ – before Lehto came back from injury.
If Jos had learned anything from his first taste of F1 it was that physically he was not up to the game, but he had also quickly twigged that politically Benetton was Schumacher’s team first and foremost. That was not to say they did not rate Verstappen – after all, they had offered him a longer contract than any other team and when Lehto failed to produce his best form on returning from injury, Verstappen was reinstalled. By that point though, Schumacher had won five of the first six races and if they were predisposed towards him before, they were now entirely on Michael’s side. Jos insists that he understood but the frustration of feeling abandoned in his first ever season in F1, with less than three years of racing experience behind him, is clear.
‘All the testing went into the [mid-season] rule changes, not into helping me get confident in the car to make me faster. It wasn’t like it is today where they really help the other driver who is struggling but at that time they didn’t care.’ 6
When his son found himself in a similar position as the youngest driver on the grid and teammate to the vastly more experienced Daniel Ricciardo, Max did not lie down and accept any suggestion of a role as second fiddle. Perhaps his father, a close adviser throughout his life, had learned a valuable lesson from his rocky Benetton ride.
Despite the difficulties, Jos’ accession to the fastest circus in motor sport was a cause for celebration in Montfort and the town became, according to Jos’ father Frans, ‘a place of pilgrimage’. For years, Frans ran a pub called the Cafe De Rotonde, named after the large roundabout in the middle of town where it sits, and when his son was racing, he did big business. ‘Especially in the early years it was a madhouse,’ Frans said in 2015. ‘Back then, the entire street was closed off and there was a large tent running across the length of it. I had eighteen TV sets and the crowd numbered 2,000 or 3,000. This was the case during the races in Hungary and Belgium, where Jos finished third. After that, it was complete mayhem – the whole rotonde was jam-packed.’ Even now, only 3,000 people live in the whole of Montfort.
This is no exaggeration though. Blurry VHS footage from the day of the 1994 Hungarian Grand Prix, in which Jos drove from twelfth on the grid to finish third while his Benetton teammate Michael Schumacher took the win, shows Frans being held aloft on the shoulders of some pub patrons who, from their pained expressions, look as though they might have underestimated his hefty frame. Outside, the pavement is packed with parasols and beer barrels being used as tables. A group of men are dressed in traditional Flemish costume, which for the uninitiated might not look out of place in a German beer hall a few miles away, and they chant ‘Jos, Jos, Jos’, as well as some very lyric-heavy songs 7they have written about his exploits and heroism. One of them has a signed picture of Jos tucked into his hatband.
‘Jos brought that about and it is my belief that Max will stir up even more,’ Frans said. No pressure, kiddo.
By the time his grandson had made it into F1, Frans had given up the pub and moved to the other side of the roundabout to run an ice cream parlour, but that did not stop the partying, albeit with a bit less alcohol involved. When Max made his debut in F1 in Australia, the race was too early in the morning back in the Netherlands to run any sort of event but his second event in Malaysia would start at 9am, a reasonable hour for Frans to get a licence to start dishing out ice cream breakfasts.
He put up a marquee next to the shop and kitted it out with a speaker system and large TVs before filling it to the rafters with Montfortenaars. In his Toro Rosso, Max finished seventh, beating his teammate Carlos Sainz and both drivers for the more senior Red Bull team. There were jubilant scenes in Montfort. A lot of ice cream was sold. Frans said: ‘I am the most proud grandpa in Holland, rather yet … the world. I have never hidden that.’
The tradition continued with the party moving from a temporary marquee into Zaal Housmans, a cafe a couple of hundred yards down the road from the roundabout owned by Frans’ friend Harald Hendrikx. On race day, the street would practically be blockaded by fans trying to get parking close to the bar, Dutch flags with Max or Jos’ name painted on them hanging out of their windows, and Red Bull Racing caps and shirts everywhere.
The races would be shown on an enormous projector at the end of the room with memorabilia and sometimes a giant portrait of Max’s face sitting on the stage, more often host to a 8local band or an open mic night, next to the screen. The whole venue was bedecked in supportive flags and banners.
Contrary to what you might think, Frans wasn’t in it for the money. The proudest ‘Opa’ in the world convinced Harald to keep the beer prices reasonable and encouraged entire families to come and spend the afternoon watching the racing. He wasn’t profiteering, he merely wanted everyone to share in his joy (although if they wanted to buy any merchandise, he would also happily sell it to them). ‘Every Grand Prix live here at Opa Verstappens, free entry, everyone welcome,’ proclaims the sign outside Housmans, underneath which sits a replica of Max’s Red Bull Racing F1 car.
When Max won for the first time in Spain, Frans stood on the stage as his grandson sprayed champagne behind him, waving an enormous flag in celebration. Confetti dropped from the ceiling. Beers were downed. Frans had been at parties like this before, but never with a Verstappen on the top step of the podium. Finally, they had a Grand Prix win.
Frans passed away in 2019 at the age of 72, after a long battle with cancer, just a few days after Max had won his eighth Grand Prix. The hearse processed from the roundabout where he had poured beer for Jos’ fans in the nineties up to the hall where Max’s face adorns every surface. He left his bar for the last time with townsfolk holding red flares in the air. Despite their presence on the walls, Jos and Max were conspicuous by their absence. The grandson had only just won the race in Brazil and had not yet finished his racing season. Jos meanwhile did attend the funeral along with Max’s sister Victoria, but not the memorial in Housmans. It hinted that while Frans had always made out that his family were close-knit, it was not always the case.9
In 2016, police were called after a heated argument between Jos and Frans. It’s not clear what had caused the flashpoint. Max had just finished fifth at the Hungarian Grand Prix, meaning the party had been going for several hours which could explain it, but the police report records that Jos had pushed his father off his chair and he had fallen against the wall. Understandably, the incident made the national media in Holland. Having initially tried to deny anything ever happened, three days later Frans withdrew the complaint, calling it ‘a private matter between me and Jos’, before adding that ‘we’ve seen before that Jos has loose hands but this was the limit’.
What his father was referring to was the famous temper of ‘Jos the Boss’. He had a reputation as a driver of being someone not to be crossed but once he had retired, he found himself outside the F1 paddock where the deadly nature of the sport seemed to legitimise the odd outburst or confrontation; he was in the ‘real world’, where his actions had real consequences.
Frans was hardly a shrinking violet either. In May 1998, an argument broke out at a karting track in the Belgian town of Lanaken between Jos, who was there with his father, his group of friends and another group who wanted to use the facility. It quickly turned into a fight, in which a 45-year-old man was left with a fractured skull with Jos identified as the culprit in court. Under Belgian law, a financial settlement with the victim can reduce a defendant’s sentence, and sure enough the Verstappens, both of whom were found guilty of assault, got the chequebook out and were handed five-year suspended sentences each.
At the time of the incident, Jos was without a drive. He was dropped by Tyrrell for the simple reason that he was not fast enough and having tested back at Benetton, he was not given a contract because he could not raise the sponsorship. He was 10desperate to get back into an F1 car as soon as possible, with his reputation for raw speed ensuring his name was never far from the newspapers and magazines when someone was struggling.
It is easy therefore to see how he might have been eager to throw his weight around, with an ego still inflated enough to believe he had been wronged and to ensure he would take umbrage at being asked to share or even vacate a parochial karting track. Fortunately for him, the case took two years to go through the courts and the controversy did not stop Stewart giving him a drive just a month after the widely reported fracas, replacing the poor-performing Jan Magnussen (whose son Kevin would go on to race against Max in F1).
Jos’ temper did not seem to fade despite the close shave with time in prison. He appeared before the courts again in 2008, with assault on the docket once again, and Max’s mother Sophie the alleged victim. The pair had separated by then and she had a restraining order against him, but he was accused of an assault and a series of threatening text messages. He was found not guilty of the more serious violent charge but was guilty of breaching the restraining order and, not for the first time, was handed a suspended prison sentence.
The Dutch public opened their newspapers in January 2012 to discover that Verstappen Sr had once again been arrested, this time on suspicion of attempted murder. Jos had been detained in the Dutch city of Roermond after an incident involving his ex-girlfriend Kelly van der Waal. Some suggested he had driven his car at her, explaining the gravity of the charge. The case was dropped two weeks later and in 2014 the pair reconciled and got married. The ceremony was small and happened largely in secret. He and Kelly, along with a few guests, jetted off to the Dutch Caribbean island of Curaçao in January to get married by the 11beach. Jos wore a three-piece beige suit with bright white shoes while his bride wore a strapless bridal gown in a mermaid cut and a slightly sweetheart neckline. It was a setting and occasion from which the memories should have lasted for years to come – but the marriage lasted just three years.
The pair did have a child together; Kelly gave birth to a daughter, Blue Jaye, a half-sister to Max seventeen years his junior, whom he happily welcomed into the family just as he had his little sister Victoria when she came along a good few years before. Jos had a fourth child with partner Sijtsma on 4 May 2019, a boy named Jason Jaxx, and the four children regularly spend time together as a family.
Max is a caring and kind older brother. He had just turned two when his mother came home from the hospital with a little sister for him, but he was gentle and sympathetic, a skilled peacekeeper.
‘Victoria was the boss,’ his mother Sophie recalled years later. ‘Max would always give her the sticker or colouring book to keep the peace. It sums up his character, really: open and sweet. Max is an emotional person and will always want to solve things by talking first.’ She adds, a slight against her ex-husband: ‘He got that fierce racing instinct from Jos. The gentleness he got from me.’
Family life was not a struggle in the Verstappen household in the early years; Jos was making good money in F1, although he could have done without losing his drive after a contract holdout with Jordan that left him out in the cold once again. He was stripped of the chance to lead Honda back into F1 when the project crumbled due to the sudden death of his friend and former Tyrrell boss Harvey Postlethwaite. Nevertheless, his progress was perhaps stifled due to the fact that his manager, 12Huub Rothengatter, still believed he could extract hefty retainers for Jos’ services from teams despite the nickname ‘Vercrashen’ still following him round the paddock. ‘No one parks a car better than Jos Verstappen,’ the joke used to go, so often would he find himself stationary by the side of the track.
Little Max was blissfully unaware of the highly political nature of the F1 paddock. To him, his father was a travelling, conquering hero whom he hated to see leave. He would cry when Jos would leave