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The popularity of Formula 1 in the United States has gone up considerably in the past few years. But why are there hardly any American drivers on the grid?
The most famous American Formula 1 driver in 2025 wasn’t real. He was played by Brad Pitt.
In the blockbuster film F1, Pitt plays Sonny Hayes, a grizzled veteran returning to the grid for one last run at glory. The movie roared into theaters and did exactly what the sport has been trying to do for years—make Americans fall in love with Formula 1.
It worked. Packed theaters. Massive box office numbers. A genuine cultural moment. Prior to this, the Netflix series Drive To Survive was already a massive hit stateside.
Which raises an awkward question.
Why did Hollywood have to invent an American hero? Because in real life, the grid has rarely had one.
America Loves Formula 1 Now
The American boom is undeniable. The sport now has three races in the United States: the Miami Grand Prix, the United States Grand Prix, and the neon-drenched spectacle of the Las Vegas Grand Prix.
Under American ownership by Liberty Media, F1 has aggressively pushed into the U.S. mainstream. Celebrity-packed grids. NFL-style pre-race shows. Vegas turning the Strip into a racetrack.
Attendance is record-breaking. TV numbers are rising. Merchandise is everywhere.
But when the lights go out on Sunday? The stars in the cars are almost never American.
The Lone Survivor
It’s not for lack of trying. Recently, Florida-born Logan Sargeant broke a 30-year drought by becoming the first American to score a point in F1 since the early ’90s. For a moment, it felt like the breakthrough had arrived.
But the reality of the sport is brutal. Sargeant’s departure from Williams during the 2024 season served as a sobering reminder: in F1, you don’t just need to be fast; you have to be perfect. His struggle to keep his seat highlighted the massive gap between “making it” and “staying there.”
When Sargeant left the grid, the U.S. was left once again watching from the sidelines.
It wasn’t always this way. The United States has produced two Formula 1 World Champions: Phil Hill (1961) and Mario Andretti (1978).
Andretti, in particular, was a titan. He didn’t just win in F1; he conquered IndyCar and NASCAR too. During the 1960s and ’70s, Americans were a real part of the ecosystem, with legends like Dan Gurney even building and winning in his own car.
Then, almost quietly, the pipeline dried up. Americans didn’t just stop winning; they stopped showing up.
The Two-Track Problem
The simplest explanation is also the most American one: the U.S. already has its own motorsport superpowers. Drivers there don’t necessarily grow up dreaming of Monaco. They dream of the Indianapolis 500, Daytona, or Talladega. For a young talent, the path to IndyCar or NASCAR is clear and lucrative, heck Michael Jordan co-owns a NASCAR team.
Moving to Formula 1 is a different beast entirely. You have to climb the European ladder.
To reach F1, a driver usually has to move to Europe as a teenager to climb the junior ladder: Formula 4, 3, and 2.
That’s costly, easily in the vicinity of $10 million. Because of this, the grid remains a European stronghold. Roughly 70% of the current drivers hail from Europe, where they grow up inside the FIA system. By the time a talented American driver even considers Europe, they’re often already committed to a different path at home.
Moving from the American racing scene to Formula 1 is like asking an NFL coach to move to England and manage a Premier League team. Only Ted Lasso makes that look easy.
Cadillac and the Search for a Hero
Change may finally be coming. American manufacturer Cadillac has joined Formula 1 as the sport’s 11th team for the 2026 season, partnering with Andretti Global.
But their first lineup reflects the reality of building a new team: experience over optics.
Cadillac’s debut seats went to two proven veterans: Valtteri Bottas and Sergio Pérez. They are exactly what a brand-new team needs to develop a car. Still, the irony is hard to miss. An American team entered F1 during the sport’s biggest U.S. boom… and its drivers are a Finn and a Mexican.
Meanwhile, American star Colton Herta waits in the wings as a development driver, hoping the door finally opens.
Americans Running the Show
Ironically, Americans have become the most powerful figures in the sport—just not behind the wheel.
The most visible is Zak Brown, the American boss of McLaren. Brown has been the architect of a miracle, rebuilding the historic team into the dominant force it is today. After McLaren’s massive 2025 season—where they secured both the Constructors’ and Drivers’ Championships—Brown proved that an American mind can conquer the sport.
Long before Cadillac arrived, however, Gene Haas was carrying the flag. Since 2016, the Haas F1 Team has been the grid’s American outpost. Headquartered in Kannapolis, North Carolina—the heart of NASCAR country—Haas proved that an American machine-tool tycoon could go wheel-to-wheel with the European elite.
Above them all sits Liberty Media, the American owners who have reshaped F1 into a global entertainment machine, thanks in part to Netflix’ “Drive to Survive”. Americans own the sport, run the teams, and sell the show. They just don’t drive the cars.
The Ricky Bobby Factor
Which brings us, inevitably, to Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.
In the film, Ricky Bobby—played by Will Ferrell—delivers the most American racing philosophy ever written: “If you ain’t first, you’re last.”
His rival, the flamboyant French Formula 1 driver Jean Girard, constantly refers to the sport with exaggerated elegance. “Ah yes… Formula Un.”
At one point he calmly reminds Ricky: “In Formula One we race for Ferrari… it is a little different.”
That line, actually captures the cultural divide perfectly. NASCAR is loud. Brash. Tribal. Formula 1 is global. Sophisticated. Technical.
The Real Thing
For now, the definitive American Formula 1 hero remains fictional. Brad Pitt’s Sonny Hayes is the closest thing the sport has to a homegrown protagonist.
But the conditions are changing. Three races. American ownership. Two teams with deep American roots on the grid.
Somewhere in the States, a kid is watching the 2026 season and deciding they want to be more than just a fan. They want to drive. And when that kid finally makes it to the podium, Formula 1 will get something it’s been missing for decades.
A real American driver to cheer for. Not a movie star. Not a character.
The real thing.
Banner images from the F1 Facebook page.