FORMULAS, AGE, AMBITIONS: HOW THE GROWTH OF DRIVERS IS CHANGING
The age of 15 has become a crucial threshold in the climb toward top-level motorsport: as soon as you turn 15, you move into cars, often regardless of the context. Although this practice is widely criticized, it has become a
custom that is hard to avoid when you have a medium-term program underway. We discuss this with those who have followed young drivers from the very beginning…
At 15, you move into cars; it’s now a rule. Before asking your opinion, I’d like to take a step back.
Why 15, and since when has this become the mandatory threshold in Junior motorsport? What factors contributed?
There isn’t a single definitive answer, but it’s clear that this is the result of a process of anticipating timelines. Years ago, to race cars you even needed a driver’s license, and drivers often reached Formula 1 after the age of 25. Today, however, you can debut at 18 – and this has lowered the age across all lower categories. The main reasons?
The urgency to arrive early, to play your chances when you are at your freshest and most competitive. The extremely high costs of junior formulas, which push families and teams to seek a faster climb, to limit prolonged investments.
Moving up at 15 has thus become almost mandatory: if you want a real chance at professionalism, you have to start early. But this also raises many questions: are we sure all these young drivers are really ready at that age? Are we giving them time to grow, or are we just rushing them?
For a journey that often starts well before the age of 10, it seems almost normal that at 15 you ‘move up’ from karting to cars. The F1
Academies are beginning to change their attitude, and the trend may shift in the coming years, allowing more time and creating less pressure on very young drivers.
To what extent do you think cases like Verstappen (on which the FIA then clumsily intervened to prevent imitation) or the more recent case of Antonelli, who had an F1 contract while still underage, have influenced this trend?
It’s not so much a question of influence: cases like Verstappen or, more recently, Antonelli, have set a very strong precedent. They have shown that it’s possible to sign an F1 contract as a minor, and this has inevitably pushed many – families, managers, teams – to try to replicate that path as soon as possible. What tends to be forgotten, however, is that not everyone is Verstappen or Antonelli. These exceptional cases have helped consolidate the idea that “earlier is better,” but accelerating the timeline is not always the right choice for a driver’s development. In fact, in recent years, F1 Academies seem to have changed their approach: they’re no longer rushing to sign the next prodigy at 14. On the contrary, they want to see drivers ready technically, physically, and mentally before moving them up a category. There’s a stronger desire to structure the pathways more thoughtfully, even if it’s often difficult to hold back external pressures, especially from parents and sponsors eager for results.
So yes, “exceptional cases” have opened a path, but today the more serious organizations seem to have understood that haste is not always a virtue, and that every driver matures at a different pace.
What has changed over the years between Verstappen and Antonelli, in your view?
A lot has changed between Verstappen and Antonelli, both in terms of regulations and the approach to driver development. After Max’s lightning debut in F1 at just 17, the FIA intervened by changing the rules: they introduced the requirement of legal adulthood to obtain a Super License, in addition to accumulating a certain number of points from junior championships. This was a direct response to the “Verstappen case,” to prevent it from becoming the norm. Even though we’re starting to see some exceptions today, the principle remains: early access to F1 must be managed with greater caution.
But it’s not just a matter of rules. The approach to driver development has also changed. Verstappen made a direct jump from F3 to F1 after just one season, practically without any test mileage in a modern F1 car. Antonelli, on the other hand, although he signed very young with Mercedes, had more time to grow: he completed three full seasons in junior formulas and accumulated a huge amount of test mileage, both with intermediate single-seaters and with F1 cars.
In short, between Max’s era and Kimi’s, there’s been a shift in awareness: today, there’s a greater tendency to protect young drivers, to guide them with more structured programs, even if the pressure to arrive early remains high. Early talent has always existed, but now there’s an effort to nurture it with more balance.
Let’s get into the technical aspects: what are the main differences between a KART (generally we’re talking about OK, since few attempt KZ) and an F4 single-seater?
Moving from kart to F4 isn’t just a step up in category: it’s a change of world. They are two completely different machines, requiring radically different driving styles. In karting (especially in the OK category), the driver handles an extremely responsive, very light machine, without suspension, with mechanical grip very different from that of a car. Starts are rolling, racing lines are more fluid, and driving relies heavily on agility, precision, and managing speed through corners. In F4, you enter a much more complex environment:
- Standing starts with clutch and torque management
- Much more demanding braking, where you can exert up to 120 kg of pressure on the pedal
3. Significantly higher G-forces, requiring greater physical development - Completely different dynamic behavior, due to aerodynamic load, suspension, and weight distribution
In short, it’s not quite starting from scratch, but almost. Even the most talented driver must go through an adaptation phase, often demanding, to retrain body and mind to new sensations, reaction times, and ways of interpreting the track. Karting remains the best school for forming a driver, but the move to F4 requires a technical and mental reset that should not be underestimated.
The huge technical differences between a kart and an F4 single-seater are often underestimated; one is preparatory to the other, but they are extremely different in terms of approach and driving.
Given these substantial differences, do you consider it an easy transition?
Given the technical differences between karts and single-seaters, no, it cannot be considered an easy transition, neither from a sporting nor a management point of view.
Technically, as we’ve said, everything changes: driving style, car management, required physical strength, mental approach. But what really makes the leap complicated is above all the context in which it happens. Those with significant financial resources can start testing with F4 very early – even a year before their official debut – racking up thousands of kilometers. This allows them to start the season with solid technical and mental preparation, making the transition more manageable. On the other hand, those without such a budget face a much more abrupt leap: they often arrive with only a few days of testing behind them, and they have to learn everything on the fly, against already seasoned opponents. This creates a significant gap, not so much (or not only) in terms of talent, but in experience and confidence with the car. So no, the transition is not easy. It’s a delicate, costly, and highly selective phase, where those who do well from the start often have a very structured preparation behind them – and this is not always just a matter of merit, but also of opportunity.
Which physical and psychological factors, in your opinion, have the most influence at this stage?
In the transition from kart to single-seater, both physical and psychological factors come into play, but at different times and with different impacts.
At first, the physical side is the most important: the body must get used to a completely new effort. Single- seaters require more strength in the neck, arms, and lower back, and especially much greater resistance to G- forces compared to karts. Even braking in F4, which can require up to 120 kg of pressure on the pedal, is a real challenge for a body not yet trained to that level. Without specific preparation, you risk not being able to exploit your potential. But once the body starts to adapt and the racing season gets underway, the psychological component makes the difference. Managing expectations, pressure, often fluctuating results, mistakes, and top-level competition becomes crucial. This is where many young talents struggle, and that’s why working on the mental side from a young age is fundamental. Self-confidence, the ability to handle competition, clarity in race decisions: none of this can be improvised. And those who arrive in single-seaters with an already formed and solid mentality definitely have a huge competitive advantage.
What could hinder a driver’s growth in such a sudden transition, and on the other hand, what could reveal that we’re dealing with a true talent?
In the transition from karts to F4, there are several factors that can hinder a young driver’s growth, and the first is undoubtedly age. At 15, you are at a delicate stage in life, where not everyone is ready to handle the enormous load of sacrifices, pressure, and responsibility that comes with racing at a professional level. Personal and mental maturity does not always go hand in hand with the demands of the paddock. The second obstacle, often the most concrete, is budget. Without sufficient resources, it becomes difficult to complete a full season, with adequate testing, technical support, and competitive equipment. This penalizes even the most talented drivers, who risk going unnoticed or not being able to express their full potential.
That said, it’s precisely in difficult contexts that true talents emerge. There are drivers who, even with few tests and limited resources, still manage to stand out, perhaps thanks to their adaptability, technical sensitivity, or clarity during races. True talent is seen when a driver manages to make a difference even in unfavorable conditions, remaining consistent, fast, and intelligent. The leap to single-seaters is a phase that can crush or make you shine: it’s not just about being fast, but also about how you adapt, how you react to mistakes, how you grow over time. That’s when you can tell if you really have a future champion in front of you.
The move to F4 is a significant step forward, requiring quick adaptation to the car but also a sense of responsibility and maturity. Ifyou’re not ready in terms of character, the risk of burning out at just 15 is very real.
What role do track time and testing play in all this? Do you know of drivers with greater opportunities for (unofficial) F4 testing – before 15, sometimes even before 14 – who then performed well at their F4 debut simply because they had already done so much running in the car?
Testing plays a decisive role in the transition from kart to F4. It’s the moment when the driver begins to get to know the car, develop technical sensitivity, build confidence, and understand the fundamental mechanisms of single-seater driving. But unfortunately, today, testing is also a litmus test for economic inequality. With current regulations, it’s not uncommon to see kids starting to run in F4 at 12 or 13, obviously in unofficial tests or in countries where the rules are more permissive. Those with significant financial resources manage to rack up thousands of kilometers before even turning 15, thus arriving at their championship debut with far more experience than average.
In many cases, these drivers then do well immediately at their debut, not necessarily because they’re more talented, but because they’re already perfectly at ease with the car, know the circuits, can manage braking, standing starts, and technical communication with the team. It’s a huge advantage, and those who can’t afford the same preparation inevitably find themselves playing catch-up.
Talent matters, of course. But testing makes a difference, and today the system often rewards those who have been able to prepare calmly and in advance, rather than those with pure talent but few opportunities to show It’s a delicate and very current aspect of junior motorsport, which raises important questions about the concept of merit and real opportunities for everyone.
Let’s do the math: to get to Formula racing at 15, you can’t do without a long karting career that
starts almost ten years earlier, from Mini Under, Mini Gr 3 OKJ, and OK. Is there any stage among these that you think could be skipped?
The answer is: karting is essential, absolutely. To say otherwise would be a lie. That’s where the basics are developed: sensitivity, control, managing racing lines, competitive attitude. That said, not every single step is mandatory. If a driver has real talent, and especially if they discover and work on it the right way, they can even skip a category or start later and still do well. Maybe they come into play later, but they do so with awareness, maturity, and quick learning.
Of course, those who follow the whole path will have more mileage, more experience, more situations managed. But motorsport is full of examples of drivers who, even by taking “non-standard” paths, have managed to emerge thanks to pure quality and the ability to adapt quickly.
In short: karting is the best school, but not everyone has to do the entire program to break through. Talent – when it’s there – always finds a way to come out.
Broadening the topic: could a true talent, for example, not have had a long and brilliant karting career and still do well in cars? Or if you don’t start at 8, is it better to give up?
The answer is yes, absolutely. As already mentioned, karting is important, but only up to a point. There’s no mathematical rule that says those who were fast in karts will also be fast in cars. Likewise, it’s not certain that those who didn’t shine in karting can’t make a difference in single-seaters. The two machines are very different technically and stylistically. There are drivers who maybe can’t express themselves at their best in karts, but once they get into a car, they find their natural dimension.
The key lies in adaptability, the ability to learn quickly, and mental consistency. There are also many concrete examples: drivers who didn’t make a mark in single-seaters but then became world champions in closed-wheel racing, dominating in GT, Endurance, or Touring Cars. This shows that talent doesn’t come in just one form.
So no, it’s not at all true that if you don’t start at 8 it’s better to give up. Of course, starting early helps, but it’s never too late if you have the right qualities and the right environment to develop them. Motorsport is full of atypical paths that have led to extraordinary careers.
On the wave of “one in a million” cases like Verstappen and Antonelli, enthusiasm has grown in recent years for ever earlier debuts, which aren’t always necessary at a very young age if there’s real talent.
Why do you think, despite criticism from many quarters, this “philosophy” continues to succeed? Is there a risk that the sporting-commercial mechanism could break down?
The truth is that criticism alone isn’t enough to change a system, and this applies not only to motorsport, but to many other sports. If a model continues to “work,” meaning it produces talent, interest, and business, it’s unlikely to be questioned. Even if it’s elitist, even if it excludes many promising young people for economic reasons.
The real critical point, however, isn’t opinions or judgments: it’s economic sustainability. Today, the costs to seriously participate in junior formulas are off the charts: you need enormous budgets already in F4, not to mention F3 or F2. As long as there’s enough demand – that is, families and investors willing to support these amounts – the system will go on. But the real crisis could come when this willingness starts to decline. When there are no longer enough drivers able to bear these costs, or when sponsors stop believing in a concrete return. That’s when the sporting-commercial mechanism could indeed break down.
In short: criticism won’t change the system, but money will. If costs keep rising out of control, the risk of seeing a collapse in participation, and therefore competitiveness, becomes very real.
And here we are at the grand finale: what do you think, Giovanni Minardi, about the “professionalism” threshold at 15, and what advice do you give to those embarking on this long journey?
At this point, I’m often asked what I think about the so-called “professionalism threshold” at 15, meaning
the moment when so many youngsters move from karts to single-seaters. And my answer is simple: I don’t think there’s a right age for everyone. It’s difficult to set a universally valid threshold, because every young person is different. The real issue, in my opinion, is understanding when a driver is ready – physically, but above all mentally – to face such an important, demanding, and risky step. It’s not enough to look at the calendar: you have to assess maturity, balance, and awareness. It’s a wonderful sport, but also tough and dangerous, and unfortunately this aspect is too often underestimated. Not all fifteen-year-olds are the same. Some are ready at 14, others aren’t even at 16. And that’s fine. Forcing the timeline just to follow a standard model or external pressures can do more harm than good.
The advice I feel like giving to those starting this long journey is: don’t rush. Focus on your growth, try to learn every day, toughen up without wanting to skip steps. And above all: surround yourself with people who help you build a path tailored to you, not to the system. Talent matters, but without balance, patience, and preparation, it’s not enough.