“This Can’t Continue”—Button Sounds the Alarm on Leclerc’s Downfall After Silverstone

The Fall of Ferrari’s Favorite Son

There was a time, not so long ago, when Charles Leclerc stood as the future of Formula 1. Fast. Fearless. Flawless under pressure. The boy from Monaco who dared to defy titans, battle legends, and carry the weight of a scarlet dream on his shoulders. He was meant to restore the Ferrari dynasty, to finally bury the years of chaos that defined the post-Schumacher era. But on a rain-soaked weekend at Silverstone, the curtain was pulled back. And what the world saw left even Jenson Button, a man known for calm under fire, visibly shaken.

“This can’t continue,” Button said on air, his tone grave, his words heavy. And in that moment, a sense of unease rippled across the paddock. Because Button wasn’t just critiquing a driver’s bad day. He was diagnosing something deeper. Something fatal. The unraveling of a career. The collapse of belief. The painful, public downfall of one of Formula 1’s most gifted talents.

At Silverstone, Leclerc’s race was a disaster from start to finish. A baffling tire call from Ferrari sent him spiraling down the order. He started 11th. He finished 14th. But it wasn’t just the result that stung—it was the way it happened. Hesitation. Mistrust. Radio silence. No fire. No fury. Just resignation.

The man who once went wheel-to-wheel with Lewis Hamilton in Monza, who out-qualified Sebastian Vettel at age 21, looked like a shadow of himself. And that was the moment Button saw it. The moment the world saw it.

This isn’t just a performance slump. This is a crisis. A quiet, slow-motion collapse hiding behind polite press conferences and vague strategy debriefs. The kind of collapse that ends not with a crash, but with a whisper.

And if Ferrari doesn’t act soon, it may lose not just a race or a championship—but Charles Leclerc himself.

Cracks in the Temple of Maranello

For Ferrari, image has always been everything. The red suits. The proud faces. The carefully curated mythology of dominance. But beneath the surface, the modern Ferrari is a house divided. Politically charged. Technically erratic. Emotionally toxic. And Charles Leclerc has become the unwilling symbol of its dysfunction.

The signs have been there for years. Strange pit wall decisions. Races thrown away by hesitation. A team that celebrates mediocrity with forced optimism. Every fan remembers the infamous Monaco pit stop debacle in 2022. The baffling tire calls in Hungary. The contradicting messages in Brazil. And now, Silverstone 2025.

Once is a mistake. Twice is a concern. Five times is a pattern. And Button, with the cool detachment of someone who’s been inside both chaos and victory, sees it clearly: Ferrari is breaking Leclerc.

“Charles doesn’t trust the team anymore,” Button said in a post-race interview. “You can see it in his eyes. He’s not questioning strategy because he’s calculating. He’s questioning it because he’s afraid they’ll get it wrong again. That’s a driver driving scared. And that’s lethal in this sport.”

In Formula 1, trust between driver and team is everything. Without it, there’s no harmony. No risk-taking. No magic. It becomes survival. And survival, in a sport measured by thousandths of a second, is not enough.

Behind closed doors, sources suggest that Leclerc’s relationship with Ferrari has deteriorated to icy formalities. Meetings are short. Feedback is dismissed. Sim sessions end early. His engineer, once a confidant, now speaks in corporate tones. And Leclerc, once vibrant and demanding, now simply nods.

It’s not a lack of talent. It’s a lack of will. The fire that once drove Leclerc to take impossible lines, to wrestle a dog of a car into pole position, is flickering. And Button, who won a world title in a car that had no right to be champion, understands what that means.

“Ferrari isn’t just losing performance,” he warned. “They’re losing a driver’s soul.”

And in Formula 1, once that’s gone, it rarely returns.

The Future Leclerc Might Already Be Planning

The most terrifying part of Button’s warning? It might already be too late. Because while Ferrari continues to live in denial, the rest of the paddock is watching. And Leclerc’s next move could redefine the landscape of Formula 1 for the next decade.

First, there’s the Audi wildcard. The German manufacturer is preparing its 2026 debut with Sauber, pouring billions into facilities, personnel, and power units. They need a star. A face. A project leader. Leclerc, bruised but unbroken, fits the profile perfectly. Whispers in the paddock suggest talks have already begun.

Then, there’s Mercedes. With Lewis Hamilton’s switch to Ferrari finally in motion and George Russell’s status still uncertain, Leclerc could become the bridge between eras. A redemption arc with Toto Wolff at the helm? It writes itself.

And then, the unthinkable—Red Bull. Leclerc and Max Verstappen are rivals to the bone, but Red Bull doesn’t make decisions based on feelings. They make them based on data. And Sergio Pérez, despite flashes of brilliance, continues to waver. Christian Horner isn’t blind. Neither is Helmut Marko.

Imagine it—Leclerc in a Red Bull. The ultimate betrayal. The ultimate comeback. The move that ends careers and creates new dynasties.

But the most poetic twist? Leclerc is staying at Ferrari—but not forgiving them. Not trusting them. Just biding time. Playing politics. Waiting for his final year to run down so he can leave on his terms. And take his talent, his millions of fans, and his unfulfilled potential somewhere that believes in him.

That might be the most devastating blow of all. Because Ferrari didn’t just gamble on Leclerc—they built around him. If he walks away, they don’t just lose a driver. They lose their identity.

And Button’s warning becomes prophecy.

“This can’t continue.”

Because if it does, Ferrari may not recover.

Final Laps of a Dream

In 2019, Charles Leclerc won at Monza, and the Tifosi wept. They chanted his name. They called him the chosen one. He stood atop the car, fist raised, fire in his eyes. That was just six years ago. But it feels like a lifetime.

Today, that fire is dimmed. Not gone. Not extinguished. But buried under politics, mistakes, and heartbreak.

Jenson Button doesn’t speak in headlines. He speaks in truths. And when he says this can’t continue, he’s not predicting disaster. He’s warning of loss. Of waste. Of a sport that eats its brightest too early.

Leclerc isn’t finished. He’s too good. Too driven. But if Ferrari wants him to stay, to fight, to believe again—they have to change. Not the car. Not the wind tunnel numbers. The culture. The leadership. The soul.

Because talent without trust is meaningless. And Leclerc, for all his gifts, is a human being. Not a symbol. Not a pawn. A man who gave Ferrari his youth, his tears, and his faith—and is now watching it all unravel.

As the sun set over Silverstone, Leclerc didn’t storm off. He didn’t shout. He simply walked. Quietly. Alone. Past the garages. Past the press. Past the fans still waving flags. Head down. Jaw tight. Eyes forward.

Because he knows what Button knows.

This can’t continue.

And it won’t.

Not if he has anything to say about it.