A single off-script moment in Suzuka turned into one of Formula 1’s most discussed media stories. Max Verstappen was reported to have told a journalist to leave a Red Bull press session in the team’s hospitality suite. No cameras. No photographers. Just the kind of tense, private setting where one sentence can reshape an entire narrative for days.

The journalist, Giles Richards from The Guardian, was asked to go. After that, online abuse spiked and the incident became a bigger talking point than most on-track talking points from the weekend.

To understand why this mattered so much, it helps to look at three things: what kind of session it was, how teams and drivers treat access, and how journalists and PR teams manage (or fail to manage) heat under pressure.

The incident in plain English: hospitality, no cameras, no photographers

This was not an FIA-run press conference. That distinction matters. The FIA decides who attends its press sessions. What happened in Japan was a Red Bull session inside Red Bull hospitality, with no TV cameras allowed and no photographers.

In that context, Verstappen reportedly arrived, noticed Richards near the front, and said something to the effect of: he would not be speaking before Richards left.

Richards initially thought it might be a bluff. But Verstappen was apparently serious. Richards then left.

That moment was especially volatile because it took place in a space where journalists expect access, yet the team expects compliance. Even when the rules are clear, the power dynamic is not always obvious until someone tests it.

Why it escalated: journalists get questions, drivers get control

The heart of the issue is not simply that Richards was asked to leave. It is why he was singled out and why that specific journalist kept surfacing as a point of friction.

Richards, it was claimed, had asked a question nearly 4 months earlier that appeared to play on Verstappen’s mind. When a driver feels a question is unfair, disrespectful, or personally loaded, the driver’s instinct can be to shut the conversation down.

But for media professionals, removing a journalist crosses a line. If your job is to ask awkward questions with the privilege of access, then being forced out is not just a procedural inconvenience. It becomes a story about censorship, retaliation, or intimidation.

After the eviction, Richards also became the target of a barrage of online hate and email abuse. That part of the fallout is particularly grim, because it shifts the incident from “hardball media management” into something uglier: personal attacks that have nothing to do with motorsport performance.

Max did not invent the tactic: it has happened before

One reason this story caught on fast is that people recognized the pattern. Verstappen is not the first driver to evict a journalist.

2003: Rubens Barrichello and the wrong journalist

Back in 2003, Rubens Barrichello was also involved in a journalist ejection. A Brazilian journalist was asked to leave a press session after controversial questions related to an incident from the USA Grand Prix.

That controversy involved Barrichello and Juan Pablo Montoya. A TV Globo reporter had asked whether Barrichello did something on purpose, and Barrichello was clearly unhappy.

Then, two weeks later in Suzuka, Barrichello allegedly spotted a Brazilian journalist who had covered the prior incident. He said he was not answering questions, and the journalist was made to leave.

The twist is that Barrichello had apparently identified the wrong journalist. Even so, the journalist still had to go.

In that earlier scenario, the other journalists backed him. They all left together, applying collective pressure and forcing a moment of accountability.

How it got defused: apology and a private invite

This story is important because it shows a path that can cool tensions. Ferrari’s press officer Luca Colajanni later apologized to the journalist and invited him back for a private interview the next day. The key point was blunt and PR-smart: Ferrari invites, not the driver.

That distinction matters because it separates driver ego from institutional media access. It reframes the moment as a process issue, not a personal feud.

So why did Red Bull struggle immediately after?

Following Verstappen’s eviction of Richards, Red Bull personnel were reportedly not happy with what had happened. That suggests the driver’s move was not aligned with the team’s preferred communications strategy.

At that point, Red Bull likely faced two tasks:

• restore access so journalists do not treat future sessions as unsafe for their careers
• manage brand perception, because Red Bull thrives on powerful, positive exposure across all types of media

There is also timing. In the latter half of 2025, Verstappen and Red Bull were on a PR high. That does not guarantee everyone supports every decision, though. Even if many fans defended the eviction, some observers would see it negatively, especially if the question was legitimate journalism.

So, while the team can claim no cameras and no photographers makes it a controlled environment, the public discussion still becomes a referendum on whether a driver can regulate who gets to ask questions at all.

The reaction: support for Verstappen, criticism of the journalist, and a PR dilemma

On social media, there was plenty of backing for Verstappen. Many also criticized Richards and The Guardian over the question that seemed to have triggered the response.

That question was framed around regrets about how things unfolded regarding George in Barcelona. The argument made online was essentially: it was a fair question, it is the job of journalists to ask it, and other Dutch journalists asked Verstappen the same type of question.

This is where the story becomes complicated. Fans do not always separate “content” from “timing.” A question can be fair and still land poorly in the room, and a driver can still react emotionally.

Red Bull’s communications team, if it has any sense, would be working on a solution that avoids escalation. That might mean clarifying protocols, offering a follow-up conversation, or setting a tone that keeps future sessions from becoming public battlegrounds.

Richards answers back: admiration, respect, and the point about journalism

After the incident, Richards published an article in The Guardian and addressed the situation directly. His message was firm but measured. He indicated he still admired Verstappen and hoped for a better relationship in the future.

He emphasized that awkward questions have to be asked because journalism comes with that responsibility, paired with the privilege of access.

Richards also referenced the accusations he has faced over the years, including claims of bias against multiple drivers. He reiterated that his reporting aim is to be honest and fair.

That matters: it turns the story from “he was kicked out” into “this is what editorial independence looks like when emotions run hot.” The response reads like a boundary-setting statement, not a tantrum.

Richards also recalled an earlier moment from Abu Dhabi, when Verstappen accused him of having a silly grin. Richards said he might have had a nervous smile but did not think it was funny or enjoyed at Verstappen’s expense.

More Suzuka notes: pit board distances, fan creativity, and shock roster news

Away from the media storm, the weekend still delivered plenty of real racing-world details.

Pit lane release markers: safety math in action

Pit board signs indicate where teams can release cars safely. The distance markers change based on pit lane speed.

• In an 80 km/h pit lane, markers are placed 44 meters and 24 meters from the front axle.
• In a 60 km/h pit lane, markers are placed 33 meters and 14 meters from the axle.

The crew member releasing the car cannot release if another car is in between the markers.

Japanese Grand Prix fans: art, sketches, and handmade gifts

The Japanese Grand Prix fan culture deserves credit on its own. Fans are colourful, creative, and enthusiastic, and they bring signage and gestures that feel genuinely personal rather than performative.

One example: an artist presented Esteban Ocon with a handmade pair of shoes, personalized from a pair of Nike shoes, complete with a signed painted picture.

Later, posters were presented to Oliver Bearman and A.O. Komatsu. Bearman’s team and the entire garage setup had a playful Godzilla theme.

Team updates land via family: the Jonathan Wheatley and Liam Lawson shocks

More human surprise news came from driver reaction to personnel changes. Nico Hulkenberg reportedly found out about Jonathan Wheatley’s departure via his mother while he was doing sim work. The same pattern was described for Liam Lawson, who found out he had been axed by Red Bull after 2 races, before Yuki Tsunoda replaced him, again via family media.

It is an odd reminder that even inside a high-tech sport, information sometimes arrives through the most basic channels.

Carlos and the haircut debate, and a reminder about where travel content went

Carlos was spotted with a new hairdo, and fans debated whether another driver should also change their style, too. At the same time, travel content has been shifted to a dedicated channel, separating race coverage from lifestyle posts.

That is not central to Verstappen’s eviction story, but it does reflect something important: F1 weekends blend serious governance, human drama, and everyday fandom culture all at once.

What this incident suggests about “press access” in modern F1

If you take the Verstappen eviction story seriously, the broader lesson is that press access is a fragile ecosystem.

Even if a driver has the authority to refuse to speak before a certain journalist stays, the long-term cost is reputational. Journalists can escalate through writing and investigation. Fans can escalate through social media. Teams can escalate through PR damage.

A healthier model, like the Ferrari 2003 example, is to treat the issue as a process failure and re-open access through apology and a private channel. That keeps journalism intact while lowering the emotional temperature.

In other words: you can enforce boundaries, but you have to do it in a way that does not train the public to expect intimidation as the default response.

FAQ

Was the press session Verstappen kicked the journalist out of run by the FIA?

No. It was a Red Bull session in the team hospitality suite. The FIA controls attendance for FIA press sessions, and this was not one of those.

Why did Verstappen reportedly target Giles Richards specifically?

Reports indicate Richards asked a question months earlier that appeared to be on Verstappen’s mind. The eviction was framed as Verstappen refusing to speak while Richards was present.

Did other drivers or teams handle similar situations differently in the past?

Yes. A notable example is 2003, when Rubens Barrichello made a Brazilian journalist leave after contentious questions. In that case, other journalists backed him, and tension was later diffused through an apology and a private interview invitation.

What kind of media access restrictions were in place during the Red Bull session?

There were no TV cameras allowed and no photographers present, reinforcing that the session was controlled and private compared to larger press events.

Conclusion: awkward questions will keep coming, but so should better protocols

The Verstappen journalist incident in Japan is not just a headline about one eviction. It is a snapshot of a recurring tension in F1: drivers want control of how they are represented, while journalists need access to challenge narratives with awkward questions.

When that collision happens in a hospitality room, it can become an institutional problem overnight. The best way out is not silence. It is clear process, respectful boundaries, and a professional mechanism for repairing trust after things go off the rails.