The thing about Max Verstappen was that he never meant to start fires.

He just spoke.

And the world, apparently, was made of gasoline.

It happened during what should have been the most forgettable interview of the weekend, a standing paddock interview, handheld mic, sponsor logo repeating behind him like a bad screensaver. Max was tired. He’d just finished a long debrief. Someone had asked him about inclusivity in motorsport, phrased clumsily, loaded with buzzwords.

Max answered honestly. Bluntly. Poorly.

“I don’t care what people do in their personal lives.,” he said, shrugging. “I think making a big deal out of it is unnecessary. We’re here to race. Not everything needs a label.”