F1 generations, p.2
F1 Generations, page 2
By his teenage years, Steve made it clear that the family’s financial contribution had limits. He urged George to seek out a junior driver programme to relieve the burden. ‘When I was 16,’ George later explained, ‘he told me: you have to find a way to make this sustainable.’ That push led to George joining Mercedes’ junior programme, a crucial step that ensured his path upwards did not collapse for a lack of funding.
In later life, Russell has looked back at those years with gratitude and understanding. ‘He moulded me into the guy I am today,’ he said of his father.
The strictness, the long silences on weekends when races went badly, the pressure to excel – all of it contributed to the driver he became. What others might have resented, he came to see as part of the necessary sacrifice to reach the top.
In this, his story mirrors Hamilton’s more than Norris’s. Both Hamilton and Russell grew up knowing that their families were giving everything they had to keep them racing. Both felt the strain of fathers who pushed them, sometimes to breaking point, in the name of maximising their sons’ potential.
Norris, by contrast, never carried that same burden. His challenge was different – proving that money had not made him soft, that he could still earn his place at the top table. For Hamilton and Russell, the challenge was enduring the weight of sacrifice, proving worthy of what had been given up for them.
Russell’s success has validated his family’s gamble. From karting to Formula 3 champion, from Williams to Mercedes, he has built a career marked by professionalism and relentless application. Yet the echoes of those early years remain, visible in the way he carries himself and the way he talks about racing. His father may never have held a trophy, but his fingerprints are all over George’s career.
The stories of Hamilton, Norris and Russell reveal not just the making of three outstanding British drivers, but the making of Formula 1 itself.
Behind the glamour of the grid, beyond the roar of engines and the glare of sponsorship lies a truth that is both sobering and fascinating: no one arrives at the summit alone. Every lap completed on Sunday afternoons has been paved by years of family sacrifice or fortune. The drivers are the visible stars, but behind them stand fathers, mothers, grandparents, whole family structures that either bore the weight of financial strain, opened doors with their wealth, or mapped out the future with relentless determination.
Hamilton’s journey shows us how rare it is for someone from a modest background to break into this glamorous, rarefied world. His was a story built on the back of a father who worked three jobs, a grandfather who came to Britain in the Windrush era, and a childhood spent battling both poverty and prejudice. He embodied what it meant to fight through every barrier, his story both a personal triumph and a social statement.
His success didn’t simply add to Formula 1’s record books, it rewrote them, forcing the sport to confront questions about race, class and access that had long been ignored. Norris’s path, by contrast, illustrates the opposite end of the tale. Born into wealth, educated at elite schools and supported by a family that could bankroll him, his was a career made possible initially by privilege. Yet that privilege would only take him so far. He had to put in the graft himself to justify the more comfortable route offered to him. To prove that talent and dedication mattered as much as money. To make sure his story was not dismissed as one of entitlement but celebrated as one of merit. In his own words, it mattered deeply that he was chosen by McLaren, not just a lucky lad who had been funded by his father. That distinction was crucial as it shaped his sense of pride.
Russell, finally, occupies the middle ground. Not poor, not rich, but stretched thin by the immense costs of junior racing. His father sold the family business to fund his dream, his mother recorded data at every race, and his brother mentored him. Their support was absolute, but it came with pressure. The family gave up stability for his chance, and that gamble created a relationship of both love and strain.
His story is a reminder that Formula 1 careers are rarely just about the driver. They are about whole families bending their lives around one child’s ambition, often at enormous cost.
Looked at together, these three lives offer up a portrait of what it takes to reach Formula 1 in the modern era. They show us that there is no single route; that access to motorsport demands either money, sacrifice or inheritance, and usually a combination of all three. In Hamilton’s case, it was sacrifice against the odds. In Norris’s, it was money that had to be justified by results. In Russell’s, it was the sale of security for the hope of a future.
The emotional dynamics, too, differ just as sharply. Hamilton and Russell describe fathers whose expectations could be suffocating, whose sacrifices created a tension that only later softened into gratitude. Norris remembers parents who kept him grounded without the strain of poverty hanging over them. These relationships are central to understanding the men who sit behind the wheel. For all the talk of natural talent and raw speed, it is parenting, background and the invisible scaffolding of family that moulds a driver.
What emerges most clearly is that there is no true meritocracy in this sport. The barriers to entry are too high, the costs too steep, the opportunities too uneven. And yet, within those constraints, something extraordinary still shines through. Because while money or lineage may open doors, they cannot keep a driver there. Results, resilience and talent remain the ultimate currency. Privilege can buy time, but it cannot manufacture wins. Sacrifice can provide opportunity, but it cannot guarantee podiums. Each of our three Brits, in their own way, had to deliver when it mattered.
Perhaps that is why their stories resonate. They remind us that Formula 1 is not only about the speed of cars but about the weight of histories – family histories, national histories, class histories – that come roaring into every corner. Hamilton carries the struggles of working-class Britain and the legacy of Caribbean migration. Norris embodies the comforts of wealth and the burden of proving merit within it. Russell is the son of a small businessman who gambled everything and, against the odds, won.
Together they show us Formula 1’s true hinterlands: the invisible terrain of class, family and circumstance that lies behind the glitter of the grid. The sport may present itself as the pinnacle of individual performance, but it is in fact the product of collective sacrifice, advantage and determination. The fathers who worked three jobs, the mothers who scribbled lap times, the billionaires who helped their children arrive – all of them are as much a part of the story as the drivers themselves. Formula 1 is a contest of speed, yes, but also of beginnings.
And so, when the lights go out on Sundays and the cars surge forward, what we are really watching is not just a race between 20 drivers, but a race between histories: the boy from Stevenage whose father worked night and day, the boy from Glastonbury who had every resource at his disposal and the Norfolk lad whose family sold their livelihood for a chance. They all arrive at the same grid, but the roads that brought Lewis, Lando and George to that juncture could not be more different.
CHAPTER 2
ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS
Karting offered the natural initial habitat for our British trio of the modern era as it tends to be for most Formula 1 hopefuls. The sport is not just the first step – it’s the defining step. It teaches the fundamentals, reveals character and separates the gifted from the merely ambitious. For Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris and George Russell, karting was the arena where their destinies began to unfold.
In the world of Formula 1, where precision, reflexes and racecraft define champions, karting is more than a childhood pastime, it’s the crucible where elite drivers are forged. Nearly every F1 driver, from legends like Ayrton Senna to modern geniuses like Max Verstappen, began their journey in a kart.
But why is karting so universally regarded as the first essential step towards F1 glory?
Well, Hamilton once succinctly summed it up in this way: ‘Karting offers a unique blend of accessibility, intensity and technical challenge that makes it ideal for young drivers.’ He also explained that it enabled him to get the feel of racing at a tender age – most children can begin karting as early as age five or six, allowing them to develop race instincts before adolescence. It led to him developing core, and vital, racing skills: braking, cornering, overtaking and defending, which he could use successfully in older age group competitions. It also builds resilience, focus and strategic thinking under pressure.
There is a financial cost with the karts, but it is much less dependent on expensive machinery as is the case further up the racing scale, allowing youngsters to take part even if their families aren’t wealthy.
In that sense, karting is the most meritocratic rung on the ladder to F1.
As any would-be Hamilton would tell you, the circuit often attracts scouts from F1 teams and academies to assess the latest raw talent in the karts.
Hamilton has spoken often about his background, starting when his father bought him a radio-controlled car as a five-year-old. When he finished second in a national British Radio Car Association championship the following year, against adult competition, his father instinctively knew he would be a natural in karts.
Lewis began karting seriously at eight after persuading Anthony to procure him a kart. Without significant financial backing, the family relied on second-hand equipment and long weekends spent travelling to races. Anthony Hamilton acted as mechanic, manager and financier, stretching income from his jobs to cover entry fees and running costs.
From such a cash-stretched background, his son’s ascent to F1 relied on talent and opportunity colliding at critical junctures. With McLaren’s junior programme supporting him from his early teens, he gained financial and technical backing. But until that point, the onus had been on his family to fund every entry fee, tyre purchase and race trip. ‘My dad is the reason I’m here. He did everything to make sure I could race,’ he admitted. ‘We never went on holiday, never had new clothes, but I was always on the grid.’
Norris’s junior career unfolded more comfortably given his family’s financial advantages. Early access to international karting, test days, spare parts, elite coaching and a supportive family network enabled a seamless ascent through the ranks. The ability to invest time and energy without interruption set the stage for his later dominance in single-seaters. Plus, the Norris household was a broad sporting organism: karting, showjumping, competitive athletics all co-existed, encouraging a culture of performance. The seamless integration of sport into family life provided a normalised context for obsession, discipline and strategic growth.
The Hamilton family, by contrast, was singularly fixated. Motorsport became the sinew of family unity. While Lewis pursued racing, his family suspended other possibilities. Weekend days at the track, evenings planning set-ups, and every available pound was funnelled into the one objective of building a future motor racing star, whatever the financial and personal costs or burdens.
For George Russell, the karting journey began at the age of seven in King’s Lynn, Norfolk, inspired by his older brother, Benjy. His karting years were marked by discipline and determination, traits that continue to define his F1 career. He had tried other sports in his youth, but only karting mattered after he got a grip on it. He told KL Magazine, ‘If you have the opportunity to try out more than one sport that’s great. I used to play football when I was a youngster until I learned that go-karting was my passion. The advice I would give to any parent – whether their child wants to be a racing driver or a footballer – is firstly to encourage whatever their passion is.’
He remains indebted to Benjy for the role he played in initially enticing him into a kart. ‘Because of my older brother’s influence it was natural for me to go into karting from a young age. And I enjoyed it right from the start.’ He added, ‘My mother and father also supported me a huge amount; it was a real family team effort.’
George began karting in 2006 and swiftly demonstrated natural ability, and by 2009, he had progressed to the cadet class, winning both the MSA British Cadet Championship and the British Open. In 2010, he moved to the Rotax Mini Max category, where he dominated the British karting scene. That year, he won three tournaments: the Super One British Championship, the Formula Kart Stars British Championship and the Kartmasters British Grand Prix.
The victories established him as a rising star. In 2011, he graduated to the KF3 class and joined the Intrepid Driver Program, racing alongside future F1 drivers Alex Albon and Charles Leclerc. That year, Russell won the CIK-FIA European Championship and the SKUSA SuperNationals title in Las Vegas. The following year, he made history by becoming the first driver to successfully defend the Junior European Championship.
He nearly repeated his SKUSA win, finishing second after Lance Stroll’s disqualification was overturned. In 2013, his final karting year, Russell moved to the KF1 category and finished 19th in the CIK-FIA World Championship.
Much later, George would say, ‘Karting was everything to me. It taught me the fundamentals of racing and gave me the hunger to succeed.’
Lewis Hamilton first tried a go-kart during a family break in Spain. The experience was enough to hook him, and not long after, his father, Anthony, scraped together about £1,000 to buy one for him. His mother, Carmen, remembered her surprise when the kart arrived just before Lewis’s eighth birthday – complete with race suit and helmet. ‘He was straight in it,’ she recalled, ‘heading down the street like he’d been born to do it.’ What began with model cars swiftly progressed to karts, and before long, to dreams of Formula 1.
Lewis was similarly mesmerised by the karting world, and F1, even at the age of eight, thanks to his idol, Ayrton Senna. When Senna lost his life at Imola in 1994, Lewis was only nine and competing in a kart race that weekend. The tragedy hit him hard. ‘I didn’t show it in front of Dad,’ Lewis later said. ‘I went behind the trailer and cried. It was a turning point; realising heroes aren’t invincible made me determined to make the most of my talent.’
At ten, his life took another step forward when dad Anthony brought him to Rye House kart track, just south of Stevenage. He had already shown his pace by out-lapping his father at other circuits, but now Lewis announced he wanted to race professionally. Even as a novice, he was mixing it with the quickest on track. One regular at Rye House, Martin Hines of Zipkart, spotted the youngster immediately. ‘With a black plate, most drivers are at the back,’ Hines explained. ‘But here was this kid fighting at the front. You could see it instantly – he was something else.’ Hines offered to supply the Hamiltons with a chassis, beginning a five-year partnership.
That same year, at just ten years old, he became the youngest ever British cadet kart champion. The title earned him a trip to London’s Autosport Awards, where he famously approached McLaren team principal Ron Dennis for an autograph and boldly told him he intended to drive for McLaren one day.
Dennis signed his book with the words, ‘Phone me in nine years.’ In reality, their professional connection would begin only three years later.
Hamilton laughs about that first meeting now. ‘We couldn’t afford a suit, so I borrowed one from the guy who’d won the championship before me, shoes and all. I went up to Ron and told him I’d be world champion for McLaren. He told me to get in touch in nine years, but a couple or so years later, he called me.’
The karting successes came thick and fast. In 1996, Hamilton won the Champions of the Future, Sky TV KartMasters and the Five Nations titles. Moving into junior Yamaha in 1997, he repeated his Champions of the Future success and added the Super One championship. Former Jaguar Racing boss Tony Purnell, whose Pi Research company sponsored him for a time, believed he was witnessing the future of the sport. ‘Since he was 12, with McLaren’s backing, he’s had the best equipment,’ Purnell said. ‘But you still need the talent to use it – and Lewis always destroyed his teammates.’
Despite the growing demands of racing, Anthony also ensured Lewis remained focused on education. On the track, though, the winning streak continued. In 1998, racing in Junior Intercontinental A, Hamilton finished second in the McLaren Mercedes Champions of the Future and fourth at the Italian Open.
The following year, he won the Italian Industrials at Intercontinental A level, took the runner-up spot in the European Championship, and claimed the Trophy de Pomposa. He was also placed fourth again at the Italian Open in his category.
The year 2000 was a landmark. Hamilton dominated Formula A, winning all four rounds to take the European Championship. He also captured the World Cup and triumphed at the prestigious Bercy Masters. That season ended with him named the British Racing Drivers’ Club’s ‘Rising Star’.
By then, six years had passed since a pact he and Anthony had made to reach the top. In that time, Lewis had moved in with his father, given up much of a typical teenager’s social life, and focused on nothing but racing.
With every major karting title to his name and McLaren now officially supporting his career through their development programme, Hamilton was ready for the next leap – from karts to cars – and the start of his campaign to conquer the racing world.
For Lando Norris, karting would bring even greater recognition than Hamilton or Russell – in the form of being acclaimed as the youngest ever world champion. He began kart racing aged eight, and in his first national event, secured pole position – a sign of innate speed and composure from the outset.
Lando’s progress continued, but he was steady rather than spectacular, from 2010 to 2012. In 2010, he finished 27th in Kartmasters British Grand Prix and tenth in the Formula Kart Stars MSA – Cadet. The low placings continued, with a 27th and 25th spot in early events.
