By Lap 40, the circuit had transformed into a cooker. The temperatures had risen by 4 degrees, turning the track into a shimmering wavy strip with paint, zone marks, and flags. The Azerbaijan Grand Prix had done nothing more than expand into a more suffocating race.
From the coast to every spot surrounding the track, the atmosphere was electric. It was hard to count, but an estimate of 45,000 fans were on-site, turning the streets of Baku into a Roman colosseum. Balconies. Roofs. Terraces, and patios. It didn't matter where. All eyes were glued to the cycle of the Formula 1 cars. The race had become everything that was promised—and more.
On the asphalt, disharmony eventually emerged again. Some strategies had exploded.
