However, criticisms against the Miami GP from its most vocal opponents did not primarily pertain to these logistical challenges. Their concerns centered around F1 potentially losing its essence, shifting from a focus on sporting competition to merely being a spectacle. Yet, after experiencing the event firsthand, strolling past the well-known plywood marina and witnessing the extravagant $200 veggie platters, my reservations about these detractors’ claims have diminished.
As someone who was initially skeptical of F1’s rapid expansion in America, this newfound perspective following my Miami encounter was unexpected. Upon reflection, I realized that F1 has always been associated with exclusivity and opulence. If accessibility and grassroots involvement are what one desires, other motorsport disciplines around the world are more inclined to provide such opportunities. This exclusivity is not solely a cultural phenomenon. During my attendance at the MotoGP event in Austin in 2022, another championship rooted in Europe, I found myself effortlessly navigating into restricted areas without even realizing it. Perhaps Liberty Media, now owning MotoGP as well, will seek to address this disparity. In contrast, my attempts to access the paddock in Miami with a Paddock Club pass, where I was invited by Pirelli, were met with obstacles. Individuals I needed to speak with were also unable to reach me without passing through two sets of NFC-equipped turnstiles. Such stringent access control measures are not surprising, considering the prestigious nature of F1.
The exclusive cord, the amusing entrance fees, the grandeur and spectacle, the digital currency main sponsor, is as integral to F1 as Prost and Senna or Hakkinen and Schumacher. All the names have shifted, and spirits and tobacco gave way to major tech, but that’s essentially it. And if indeed there exists a new generation, it hasn’t arrived at the cost of the old. No one is confiscating Spa or Monza from anyone. That’s absolutely not occurring when the season continues to expand and urban tracks have complemented the traditional ones, not replaced them.
While conveying all this to my colleague Jerry Perez, he inquired if Miami and similar races were a “required wrongdoing.” Now I perceive they’re necessary entirely for the sport to progress, or at least have any prospect of maintaining its growth at a consistent pace. It’s quite simple to overlook that this championship was in turmoil 15 years ago, and Ferrari was prepared to withdraw. “Evil,” well, is a matter of viewpoint—at least as long as we aren’t referencing all the territories F1 has entered in human rights abuse hotspots. But that’s a different narrative.
F1’s conceit has always been its fixation with its own status. That will never fully vanish, naturally—simply inquire the Andretti family. However, the contrast between F1 in the era of Miami and Vegas versus the rigidness of the Bernie era is that today, F1 understands it must engage people where they are, in the language they comprehend. For some individuals, that might be the wind on the Île Notre-Dame in June; for others, it’s an Ed Sheeran show set before simulated water, on a land surrounded by real water. That’s simply existence.
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