Champ or chump?

But there is no margin for error, at least not until his boyhood hero and fellow countryman hoves into view, moves his Mercedes to one side and all but guarantees him a third championship. Quite how he was able to recover from such an unedifying start I have no idea.

But so too am I at a loss to explain how the man responsible for such a comeback, a man whose title count has been bettered by just three people in the 72-year history of the championship (the aforementioned Michael Schumacher, plus Lewis Hamilton and Juan Manuel Fangio), is today considered by many as error prone, overrated and even, some might say, a busted flush.

I refer of course to Sebastian Vettel: the most maligned World Champion of recent times. Bold, isn’t it? Laughable? But it remains among my firmest beliefs. Consider this an examination of both Vettel’s legacy, the criticism he’s received and whether or not some, all or none of it can be justified.

First things first, Seb’s character, conduct and four world titles aren’t up for debate. Not only is he one of the most likeable figures in F1, his stint with Red Bull Racing was nothing short of imperious. Seventeen podiums and 15 poles in 2011; consecutive grand slams (pole position, fastest lap and the win) and 13 victories in 2013, including nine on the bounce.

Not only do all but one of those records stand to this day, they are yet to be outdone by Sir Lewis Hamilton or Mercedes, despite their near eight-year reign. That form stretched further past his Red Bull days than you might think. In 2015, Vettel very nearly split the Silver Arrows in a fundamentally inferior Ferrari SF15-T, lying second in the championship as late as Austin.

Even so, we must address the two main criticisms with which Seb has been saddled, namely the losses he’s sustained against his younger teammates and the mistakes he’s made under pressure.

Let’s begin with 2014. Yes, Sebastian was thrashed by Daniel Ricciardo and while I can’t contest that 71-point gap, what transpired that year wasn’t as anomalous as you might think. Case in point: Lewis Hamilton in 2011. Yes, he had a far more experienced teammate in Jenson Button, but Hamilton had a shocker of a year. 2011 was his fifth season with McLaren compared to Button’s second, and while Lewis had been fighting at the sharp end of the grid since day one, Button only started experiencing that winning pressure on a regular basis in 2009.

Yet Lewis still finished 43 points adrift of Jenson and three places behind in the title race, compared to Seb’s two places at the end of 2014. Add to the equation Hamilton’s age in 2011 being the same as Vettel’s in 2014 and his performance against the Aussie looks slightly less humiliating.

Next we have Charles Leclerc, Vettel’s superior at Ferrari over two seasons, only one of which is worth analysing. In 2020 Seb was clearly a shell of the driver he once was, having the carpet and his confidence pulled out from under him when it was announced he’d be leaving the team at the end of the year, before the season had even started.

As F1 journalist Will Buxton pointed out, the effect that had on Vettel was extensive. Out-driving a car as shambolic as the Ferrari SF1000 required immense confidence and support. Seb had neither. So he had a good excuse for his performance in 2020. But for 2019 he is accountable.

Many see that 24-point buffer between him and Charles as proof of Vettel’s inferiority, but that argument makes little sense. Without taking anything away from Leclerc, for the man is clearly a champion in waiting, Vettel’s season was plagued by a near-comical run of bad luck. The Monegasque may have suffered in Bahrain, Monaco, Germany and Brazil, but those incidents pale in comparison to his teammate’s poor fortune: front wing failure in Bahrain, a laughable penalty in Canada, car trouble in Austria and Germany, a fraught qualifying train at Monza, MGU-K problems in Russia and suspension failure in Austin.

How exactly was Vettel to bounce back after losing the championship to Lewis in 2018 when ill fortune quite clearly denied him that chance? Regardless, he still managed to out-race Leclerc 12-9, and before anyone mentions his mistakes, Seb’s mishaps in Bahrain, Silverstone and Monza were matched by Hamilton’s blunders that season at Hockenheim and Interlagos.

So now let’s address those mistakes. 2017-2020 is generally seen as one long litany of disaster. Having hopefully dealt with the latter half of that period, let’s dissect what is arguably the biggest black mark against Vettel: the 2018 season. As hard as it was to witness, cracking under pressure, even when armed with more than adequate machinery, is hardly uncommon.

Take Hamilton’s 2016 title bid. The suggestion that poor reliability was all that prevented a fourth championship does not withstand much scrutiny. Misfortune may have played its part, but that defeat was allied to copious mistakes. Fluffed starts in Australia, Italy and Japan, a shunt in Baku, a coming together in Bahrain, an unnecessary move on Rosberg in Austria and that crash in Spain (the blame for which was placed upon the Brit by none other than Niki Lauda). All of a sudden, Vettel’s 2018 woes look rather less unusual than we’ve been led to believe.

And that’s before we get to 2017, a fine campaign that saw Vettel make a single mistake all season. For me, shoulder-barging Hamilton in Baku was quite comfortably offset by the innumerable bouts of bad luck the man had to endure: dislodged front wing in Canada, puncture at Silverstone, shunt in Singapore, botched qualifying in Malaysia and DNF at Suzuka all squandered the German’s chances. Why Vettel’s misfortunes have been mistaken for driver error I don’t know. Hamilton’s misfortunes from the previous season have enjoyed their fair share of coverage, while his transgressions certainly haven’t.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t an attempt to rewrite history, casting Lewis as the bloke who got all the breaks and Sebastian as the poor man who had either bad luck or no luck at all. Hamilton is as fine a driver as his record suggests. All I’m suggesting is that the debate over the greatest of this generation might not be the open and shut case many or even most believe it to be.

Lewis is one of the all time greats, no doubt, but so too is Sebastian. And if people paused long enough to look past the bald figures and attention-grabbing headlines, I think they’d see that too.