Verstappen Backs Hadjar: A Promise or a Test for the Red Bull Seat?

When Max Verstappen said 'That's what I hope,' the British media rushed to turn it into a future contract. But reading the Canal+ interview from October 12, 2039 carefully, I see a different story: a four-time champion drawing the boundaries of his own career, and a 22-year-old driver suddenly becoming a shield for Red Bull's long-term calculations. Verstappen currently sits 4th with 221 points, while Hadjar is 8th with 97 points after 15 rounds (he missed three due to a wrist injury). Six rounds remain in the 2039 season. These numbers are not just standings. They are a silent confession about an RB-39 that is no longer the benchmark of Formula 1. I spent three weeks reviewing every start and finish of Red Bull's season. What I found was not Verstappen's decline, but a performance window so narrow that only a driver with extreme sensitivity can exploit it. Hadjar, despite high praise, achieves only about 53% of his teammate's scoring rate. That is respectable for a rookie, but not enough to call him a 'successor.' The original article on the Red Bull Racing channel turned 'I hope' into a succession plan. But in sport, hope is not a contract. And a four-time champion, speaking about his future twice in two paragraphs, is sending a much stronger signal than a compliment to his teammate. I don't believe in fairy tales. I believe in shaky lines on PowerPoint, in self-assembled data tables, and in the truth that every gap is waiting for the right reader. The Hadjar story is not about a young talent being given a chance. It is about a team learning to live with uncertainty. Let's start with the number 221. Verstappen averages 12.3 points per round over 18 rounds. For a four-time champion, that is unusually low. If the car were the benchmark, he should score at least 15-16 points per round. That 12.3 equates to an average finish of 4th or 5th – a car capable of podiums but not championships. Hadjar, with 97 points from 15 rounds, averages 6.5 points per round. The 53% ratio compared to his teammate is acceptable for a rookie, but not a sign of a driver ready to succeed. The problem is we lack qualifying head-to-head data, race pace data, and tire degradation data. Three missed rounds due to a wrist injury have broken the comparison sample. I tried to redraw the spatial map of the RB-39 through corner entries. What I found is a car with a 'pointy' tendency – a sensitive front end and an unstable rear. This is characteristic of cars that only suit a driver with exceptional feel. Verstappen can handle it. Hadjar is learning to handle it. But learning to handle a difficult car is not the same as becoming a successor. There is a detail the original article overlooked: Red Bull is in the first year of a new power unit cycle, as a manufacturer in partnership with Ford. This is the largest structural change in the team's history. If the new engine is not strong enough, the car will be limited by homologation rules, not by development effort. In that context, locking in a young, cheap, high-potential driver is a strategically sound move. But there is a paradox: Hadjar was promoted to the senior team at precisely the moment Red Bull is at its weakest in years. That is a much harsher environment than inheriting a dominant car. Expectations of immediate performance are structurally unfair, and the risk of a 'he was promoted too early' narrative is very high. Verstappen said: 'I'm not going to race forever.' This line appears twice in two paragraphs. For a four-time champion sitting 4th with six rounds remaining, that is a far more important statement than praise for Hadjar. It raises questions about his own future, his contract, his motivation. And it explains why Red Bull is publicly normalizing the succession conversation. I wonder: if Verstappen leaves at the end of 2040, will Hadjar be the true successor? Or is he just a seat-warmer while Red Bull waits for a bigger name? The answer is not in the original article. It lies in unpublished contracts, in closed-door negotiations, in the silences the media is not allowed to touch. One thing I am certain of: every tactical diagram begins with a shaky line on PowerPoint. And every succession story begins with a gap – the gap between what we hope and what we know. That gap is never empty. It is just waiting for the right reader. The remaining six rounds will be a test. Not for Hadjar, but for Verstappen himself. If he races hard for a car that cannot win, that is the clearest answer about his future. If he gives up, Red Bull will have to find a true successor – and Hadjar, at 53% scoring rate, still has a long way to prove he is not a hasty choice. Transition is not the run. It is the silence between two intentions that few can read. And in that silence, Red Bull is rewriting its future – with shaky lines, with talking numbers, and with a promise not yet signed.