2002 Belgian Grand Prix

The 2002 Belgian Grand Prix (formally the 2002 Foster's Belgian Grand Prix ) [ 2 ] was a Formula One motor race held at Spa-Francorchamps on 1 September 2002. It was the fourteenth race of the 2002 FIA Formula One World Championship .

Quick Facts

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Race 14 of 17 in the 2002 Formula One World Championship← Previous raceNext race →

2002 Belgian Grand Prix ← Previous race

2002 Belgian Grand Prix nan

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Race details

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Date

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Official name

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Location

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Course

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Course length

2002 Belgian Grand Prix Distance

Table 1

Pos	No	Driver	Constructor	Lap	Gap
1	1	Michael Schumacher	Ferrari	1:43.726	—
2	4	Kimi Räikkönen	McLaren-Mercedes	1:44.150	+0.424
3	2	Rubens Barrichello	Ferrari	1:44.335	+0.609
4	5	Ralf Schumacher	Williams-BMW	1:44.348	+0.622
5	6	Juan Pablo Montoya	Williams-BMW	1:44.634	+0.908
6	3	David Coulthard	McLaren-Mercedes	1:44.759	+1.033
7	14	Jarno Trulli	Renault	1:45.386	+1.660
8	16	Eddie Irvine	Jaguar-Cosworth	1:45.865	+2.139
9	24	Mika Salo	Toyota	1:45.880	+2.154
10	15	Jenson Button	Renault	1:45.972	+2.246

Table 2

Pos	No	Driver	Constructor	Tyre	Laps
1	1	Michael Schumacher	Ferrari	B	44
2	2	Rubens Barrichello	Ferrari	B	44
3	6	Juan Pablo Montoya	Williams-BMW	M	44
4	3	David Coulthard	McLaren-Mercedes	M	44
5	5	Ralf Schumacher	Williams-BMW	M	44
6	16	Eddie Irvine	Jaguar-Cosworth	M	44
7	24	Mika Salo	Toyota	M	44
8	11	Jacques Villeneuve	BAR-Honda	B	44
9	25	Allan McNish	Toyota	M	43
10	7	Nick Heidfeld	Sauber-Petronas	B	43

Table 3

Unnamed: 0	Pos	Driver	Points
nan	1	Michael Schumacher	122
nan	2	Rubens Barrichello	51
1	3	Juan Pablo Montoya	44
1	4	Ralf Schumacher	42
nan	5	David Coulthard	37
Source: [7]	Source: [7]	Source: [7]	Source: [7]

F1ABY Commentary

Is victory truly earned, or simply seized? Schumacher, a force of nature, dominates Spa, a relentless tide of scarlet against the green. The championship, a viper coiled tight around Montoya's neck, grows ever more dangerous. Barrichello, a shadow of brilliance, pushes, desperate to claim a sliver of glory. This isn't just a race; it’s a brutal chess match played at 200mph – a testament to the savage heart of Formula One. The Williams-BMW team watches, a frustrated behemoth, while Arrows fades into the history books. A glorious, agonizing, and utterly captivating display.

“The very soul of motorsport hangs suspended here at Spa, and Michael Schumacher, with a ruthless precision, is claiming it!” The tension is a palpable thing, a coiled serpent ready to strike as he dictates the rhythm of this brutal, beautiful circuit. This isn’t just a victory; it’s a statement of dominance, a declaration that the championship fight is already being decided, right here, right now.

F1ABY Trivia

Hold on to your helmets! The Spa sun bleeds onto the asphalt, and Michael Schumacher—a force of pure, unadulterated aggression—is *dominating*. That Ferrari, a symphony of 800 horsepower and precisely engineered chassis, is carving a path through the Eau Rouge, a testament to Ferrari’s relentless pursuit of perfection. Rubens Barrichello, a valiant second, chases, but Montoya’s Williams-BMW, boasting a 3. 0-liter V10, is a hungry contender, desperate to break through. This isn’t just a race; it’s a brutal chess match for the World Championship!

This isn’t just a win; it’s a statistical avalanche, reshaping the championship landscape!

F1ABY Tales

Here we go! The air crackles – a fraction of a second separating Schumacher from Montoya! The Colombian is *on* him, a blue missile launched through Eau Rouge, daring a move that could shatter the championship. This isn’t just a race; it’s a brutal chess match played at 200mph. Barrichello, a distant second, is a forgotten footnote in this furious duel. Schumacher’s grip tightens, a steel resolve etched on his face – victory is within his grasp, the record already shimmering. The crowd roars, a primal wave of anticipation. This is what Formula One *is*.

The rain…it’s a serpent, isn’t it? Coiling around Spa, threatening to swallow everything whole. Look at Schumacher, a granite statue amidst the chaos – utterly unfazed. He’s not *enjoying* this, not truly. There’s a cold calculation in his eyes, a ruthless assessment of every drop, every slip. This isn't about speed; it’s about control. A champion’s instinct, honed to a razor’s edge. He’s building an insurmountable lead, a fortress of tires and will. This is what it’s all about.