SSF Insider Vol.15

Racing Remembers: More Than Just Drivers

Every so often, everything just goes quiet.

Engines stop roaring, arguments settle down, and suddenly all those debates about tires, strategy, and “what could have been” shrink away. Motorsport, with all its speed and drama, has this way of reminding us it’s built on something much more delicate than carbon fiber and ambition.

Since our last issue, the racing world lost two people who meant so much more than statistics ever could: Juha Miettinen and Alessandro Zanardi.

Juha Miettinen wasn’t a world-class superstar. Most of us had never even heard his name prior. But, as we all found out, he was one of those rare people who felt like the heartbeat of the racing community. The sort of presence you only truly realise when it’s missing, especially the Nordschleife family, where Juha was always around. Quiet respect followed him everywhere; he was valued deeply, woven into the paddock in ways numbers could never explain. Across the SSF grid, teams paid tribute not because anyone made them, but because it truly mattered. Apex and Scorpio eSports rolled out special liveries, not as a gesture, but as a declaration: Juha left a real mark, one that stretched beyond the track, touching everyone who raced there.

Then you have Alessandro Zanardi. To a lot of folks, he was, perhaps, one of the reasons they fell for racing in the first place. Zanardi’s story just doesn’t fit the typical sports narrative. Champion, survivor, paralympian. None of those labels feel like quite enough. What set him apart wasn’t only what he did, but the way he faced everything that came after. Where others might have stepped back, he dove in. Where some would’ve accepted limits, he quietly broke through them. He truly changed the very meaning of coming back.

For a whole generation of drivers (even the ones racing on the SSF grid right now) Zanardi proved that speed is not everything in racing. It’s about strength. It’s about pushing past every circumstance. About finding that next step, even when you can’t see the road ahead. And maybe that’s why these 2 losses hit differently.

Because in a world so caught up with lap times and finish positions, people like Miettinen and Zanardi remind us what really matters: racing is, at its core, human. It runs on passion, connection, and the people who pour themselves into it. Motorsport is no longer a sport, it is a way of living. This past weekend, the cars lined up as always. Engines started, the lights went out, and the race rolled on. It always does. But just for a moment, in the way the cars looked, in the silence before the start, in the nods between drivers, there was something else. You could feel it. Something heavier. Something that lingered. A reminder that while races end and championships get decided, the people who shape this sport leave a mark you just can’t wash away with a checkered flag. And that’s why we’ll always remember them.

Drastic Measures after Daytona massacre

Daytona should have been a celebration. A bright night party. You expect drama, sure, fast cars, big moves, egos practically leaking out of the cockpit. But this time, everything spun out of control. It wasn’t quite a disaster, yet you couldn’t call it a proper race either. Honestly, it felt more like a warning, masked as entertainment. Let’s not sugarcoat it: this was one of the sloppiest SSF races in ages.

The first headline crash happened so early, the tires were still cold.

Lap 1, Turn 1 - four cars tangled in a mess that screamed overconfidence. On Lap 1, Guzman braked late into Turn 1; honestly, like he was pushing around a shopping cart with a mind of its own, and ended up shunting Equus Ferrum, setting off ugly chain reaction into Grammenos, PayMay and Alex, inflicting damage to 3 Scorpio cars. You can guess the aftermath: broken carbon, annoyed engineers, stewards flipping through the rulebook looking for the harshest penalties. The stewards handed him a 20-second penalty and 2 license points, which honestly might’ve been too kind considering the carnage. And still, that was just the start.

Then came Grez vs. PayMay. PayMay tried to recover, slid back onto the racing line, and got shoved off again straight into the grass and into a spin, getting further damage. The officials wasted no time: another 20 seconds, another 2 points. Couldn’t be clearer or more justified.

And just when you thought things couldn’t get messier, lag gatecrashes the party. Lap 22, Grammenos and Grez crunched together, and the replay looked pixelated enough to hang in a gallery. Who’s at fault? Hard to tell. But the stewards still handed down a 5-second penalty and the classic reminder: if you’re lagging, drive like you know it.

By the end, the results sheet looked like someone’s legal notes: full of penalties and shifting positions. Drivers left Daytona confused, trying to figure out how a good race went sideways so fast.

But let’s be real, It’s bigger than a few boneheaded moves. Daytona shined a spotlight on something deeper: the gap between racing hard and racing smart is closing… and not in a good way. SSF’s organisers saw it too. Before Road Atlanta, they hit refresh. Rolling starts now, so Turn 1 wouldn't devolve into chaos. Tougher penalties for contact and blue flag violations. Basically, the message was clear: enough is enough. Now there’s a tougher question hanging over the championship: Is it finally time for a safety car?

SSF used to pride itself on clean, thoughtful racing. Wrecks were rare, a surprise and not an expectation. But when every race brings a pile-up, when Lap 1 becomes a game of roulette, and when penalties dominate the story, you have to wonder: is the current setup still making sense? A safety car won’t just slow things down; it’ll give everybody a breather. Reset the race, remind drivers why they’re here - to finish, not just to survive Turn 1.

Yes, people will complain. It changes strategy. Closes up gaps. Luck starts to matter more. Maybe it feels less “pure.” But honestly, how pure is racing if half the field is in the pits before the race really gets going? Daytona didn’t necessarily break the system, but wow, did it test the limits. If things don’t improve, that safety car isn’t just a question. It’s going to be an overdue answer. And let's be brutally honest: it would it make more exciting, as well as more realistic.

American Takeover: One Man Show and Total Domination

Everyone expected the North American stretch of the championship to throw a wrench in the works. Fresh tracks, new headaches, and maybe, just maybe, a chance for someone to finally make Apex Motorsport sweat. But instead? It became a lesson in how you control a race, top to bottom.

While the rest of the field seemed stuck in traffic jams, bickering with backmarkers, or occasionally launching their cars into some kind of cosmic adventure, S2K kept things brutally simple: win, and win again. Easily. Almost like he wanted to rub it in. Daytona was supposed to be Larson’s playground. He had the speed, the lead, looked set to cruise to victory, until the rug got pulled out from under him. Apex Motorsport played it cool, stretching their Bridgestones once again, managing the clock, and, when it mattered, handed S2K the keys to the kingdom. After that, forget it. Larson watched the win slip away and took second, probably wondering where it all went sideways.

Ryan? He was Ryan. Shows up, keeps his nose clean, and grabs another podium as if it’s just a part of his morning routine. Two races, two trophies, and now 18 podiums total - a record nobody else has touched, with no sign he’s slowing down. Not dramatic, not noisy, as Blade stated after the race - almost unseen on a stream.

Then, Atlanta promised drama, and boy, it delivered. Larson, clearly still salty from Daytona, decided he was done with the nonsense. The traffic, the blue flags, the chaos, it was too much. He didn’t even bother to race. Some say it was the new, stricter blue flag penalties that made him rethink things. Whatever the reason, he’s set to come back for the next round at Lago Maggiore; maybe he’ll have a better attitude this time.

But up front? It was business as usual. S2K scored yet another victory. Four wins in a row and now the longest streak in SSF history. Not flashes in the pan. Not random moments of genius. Just relentless, calculated dominance. The kind that quietly takes apart a championship one race at a time.

Behind him, everyone else was knee-deep in a liquid chaos. Supa got a full dose of drama at Daytona, surviving a vicious crash that could’ve been so much worse. Give him credit, though, as he bounced back at Atlanta and crossed the line in third. Until the stewards got involved. One aggressive pass on Alex sent him spinning into another dimension; penalty handed out, Supa dropped to fourth, and Panagiotis Grammenos slid onto the podium. Persistence pays off, we guess.

Further down the order, the stories kept coming. Sir 1GZ, the rookie, quietly impressed with a tidy fifth place. Alex, shaken but not stirred, grabbed sixth and probably has a few sharp words about how things played out. Guzman brought it home in seventh, while Vader looked pretty comfortable with eighth, as he’s starting to get a feel for the midfield grind.

And then, something now somewhat rare: honest-to-goodness, clean racing. Equus Ferrum and RyBird put on a show, battling hard but keeping it classy. Pure competition. Steve took ninth, RyBird tenth, and for a second, it felt like racing was really about racing again.

The rest? Not so lucky. Simpulse’s Sam came next, and both PayMay and Method dragged battered Scorpio cars to the finish, basically earning a medal for perseverance.

But let’s zoom out, because the numbers are getting wild. S2K now leads the championship by 23 points over his own teammate. Not as some outside threat. Not as someone with different equipment. His teammate, same car, same pitwall, same everything, yet still trailing. AMS? They’re out front in the team standings by a jaw-dropping 85 points. Eighty-five. And this is the same crew that was dead last after Round 1. If that is not an outright takeover, we would struggle to answer what is.

The real question now? It’s not whether AMS are the standard. It’s whether anyone else even belongs in the same conversation anymore.

Lago Maggiore: Fast Corners, Fine Wine, and Questionable Decisions

After the high-speed chaos of Daytona and the bruising technicality of Road Atlanta, SSF now arrives in Italy - a country known for passion, beauty, questionable traffic discipline… and an unshakable belief that everything is better when done dramatically.

Yes, it is the time for our first visit to Lago Maggiore.

At first glance, it looks like a holiday destination. The kind of place where you’d sip espresso, admire the view, and pretend you understand art. But put a Super Formula car on it, and suddenly it becomes less “romantic getaway” and more “operatic tragedy in 12 acts.” Because this track is all about flow, and not the relaxed, Sunday afternoon kind. This is high-speed, no-margin, commit-or-regret flow. The corners are long, sweeping, and unapologetically fast, the kind that demand absolute confidence. Lift, and you lose time. Don’t lift, and you might end up inventing a new racing line that wasn’t on your engineer's thoughts.

It’s very Italian, really, looks beautiful, feels incredible… and will absolutely punish you if you get it wrong. To add to fairly complicated fast sections, there’s the elevation, because... of course there is. The circuit rises and falls like an emotional Italian grandmother watching her favourite driver get overtaken. One moment the car feels planted, the next it’s light, nervous, and questioning your life choices. Managing weight transfer here isn’t just important - it’s everything. And now, inevitably, we arrive at tyres. Again.

These long, flowing corners will chew through rubber like a family dinner in Naples, relentlessly and with no regard for your long-term plans. Which brings us to the now unavoidable suspicion in the paddock: are AMS simply better, or have they found something in those Bridgestones that the others haven’t? Because if they once again glide through a stint while everyone else is sliding around like they’re on olive oil, the questions will only get louder. Qualifying will be crucial too. Overtaking here isn’t impossible, but due to heavy effect of dirty air, it requires either brilliance or cooperation, and SSF drivers are not known for offering either voluntarily. Track position will matter, and expect drivers to push to the absolute limit for a grid slot that could define their race before it even begins.

And then… Larson returns. After his Road Atlanta disappearance, which can only be described as “an expressive artistic protest against backmarkers”, he arrives at a track that should suit him perfectly. Fast, technical, demanding. A place where talent shines… or cracks spectacularly under pressure. With stricter blue flag rules now in place, he may finally get the clean race he believes he deserves.

Meanwhile, S2K arrives like a man who’s already ordered dessert before the main course is finished. Four wins in a row, total control, and a team operating with the calm confidence of people who know exactly which wine to pick without even looking at the menu.

So what happens next? Does Lago Maggiore finally shake things up, throwing a bit of Italian chaos into the championship fight… or does it simply provide a more picturesque setting for S2K to continue his victory tour? Because if it’s the latter, we may need to stop calling this a title battle. And start calling it a beautifully orchestrated Italian procession… where everyone else is just part of the scenery.