
The 2025 Formula 1 season has been McLaren’s best in over a decade with race wins, podiums, and a genuine title fight. But beneath the celebration lies a familiar tension: the sense that, no matter how much changes, the Papaya Rules still bend toward Lando Norris.
McLaren insists on equality between its two drivers. Yet when it comes to the big moments like strategy calls, pit stop priorities, and team orders, the orange always seems to glow a little brighter on Lando’s side of the garage.
Take Monza. After Norris lost time in a botched pit stop, Oscar Piastri undercut his way into second place. It should have been a straightforward position swap earned on merit. Instead, McLaren stepped in, asking Piastri to hand the spot back. Team principal Andrea Stella defended it as “consistent with our principles,” but the optics were obvious: when there’s a tough call, Norris gets the nod.
That moment summed up McLaren’s dynamic perfectly, polished on the outside, political on the inside. Piastri accepted the decision with trademark composure, saying the team had “valid reasons.” But for fans, it looked like déjà vu. Different year, same hierarchy.
The situation feels even sharper because Piastri isn’t the quiet rookie anymore. He’s won races, matched Lando on pace, and proven himself as one of the grid’s most disciplined, methodical drivers. Yet when things get tight, he’s still treated like the junior partner. He’s the one asked to hold position, the one told to think “about the team,” while Lando is free to chase the win.
McLaren’s reasoning isn’t irrational. Norris is the team’s emotional core as he is the driver who stuck through the lean years, the one who built relationships across the garage, and the face of their brand. That kind of loyalty earns trust. It’s no surprise that when decisions must be made in a split second, the team instinctively leans toward their long-time driver. But in a season where both are fighting at the front, those instincts come under more scrutiny than ever.
Even the team’s upgrade patterns fuel the narrative. Time and again, Lando receives new components a race earlier officially for “testing” reasons, but the result is the same: he gets first shot at the potential advantage. When you’re separated by tenths of a second, that’s not a small detail.
Then there’s the messaging. After incidents like the Canadian collision, where Norris admitted to breaking the “rule number one” by hitting his teammate, McLaren moved swiftly to defend him. The tone was protective, contrite, but not critical. It’s a leniency Piastri’s never needed but might not get if the roles were reversed.
The truth is, Papaya Rules aren’t written to be unfair, they’re born from familiarity. Norris has been in papaya orange for six seasons; he’s earned influence through time, trust, and talent. But equality in Formula 1 isn’t just about machinery, it’s about perception. And right now, perception says that when the chips are down, McLaren still dances to Lando’s rhythm.
Oscar Piastri is patient. He’s smart enough to know these things don’t shift overnight. But as 2025 edges toward its finale, one thing feels clear: McLaren may talk about balance, but the heart of the papaya still beats for its original son.

One response to “The Joke of Papaya Rules”
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go papaya go!!
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