2002 Hungarian Grand Prix

The 2002 Hungarian Grand Prix (formally the Marlboro Magyar Nagydíj 2002 ) [ 5 ] was a Formula One motor race held at Hungaroring on 18 August 2002. It was the thirteenth race of the 2002 FIA Formula One World Championship and the last race on this layout, before the circuit was modified in 2003 .

Quick Facts

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Race 13 of 17 in the 2002 Formula One World Championship← Previous raceNext race →

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix ← Previous race

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix nan

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Race details[1][2]

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Date

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Official name

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Location

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Course

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Course length

2002 Hungarian Grand Prix Distance

Table 1

Pos	No	Driver	Constructor	Lap	Gap
1	2	Rubens Barrichello	Ferrari	1:13.333	—
2	1	Michael Schumacher	Ferrari	1:13.392	+0.059
3	5	Ralf Schumacher	Williams-BMW	1:13.746	+0.413
4	6	Juan Pablo Montoya	Williams-BMW	1:14.706	+1.373
5	9	Giancarlo Fisichella	Jordan-Honda	1:14.880	+1.547
6	14	Jarno Trulli	Renault	1:14.980	+1.647
7	8	Felipe Massa	Sauber-Petronas	1:15.047	+1.714
8	7	Nick Heidfeld	Sauber-Petronas	1:15.129	+1.796
9	15	Jenson Button	Renault	1:15.214	+1.881
10	3	David Coulthard	McLaren-Mercedes	1:15.223	+1.890

Table 2

Pos	No	Driver	Constructor	Laps	Time/Retired
1	2	Rubens Barrichello	Ferrari	77	1:41:49.001
2	1	Michael Schumacher	Ferrari	77	+ 0.434
3	5	Ralf Schumacher	Williams-BMW	77	+ 13.356
4	4	Kimi Räikkönen	McLaren-Mercedes	77	+ 29.479
5	3	David Coulthard	McLaren-Mercedes	77	+ 37.800
6	9	Giancarlo Fisichella	Jordan-Honda	77	+ 1:08.804
7	8	Felipe Massa	Sauber-Petronas	77	+ 1:13.612
8	14	Jarno Trulli	Renault	76	+ 1 Lap
9	7	Nick Heidfeld	Sauber-Petronas	76	+ 1 Lap
10	10	Takuma Sato	Jordan-Honda	76	+ 1 Lap

Table 3

Unnamed: 0	Pos	Driver	Points
nan	1	Michael Schumacher	112
2	2	Rubens Barrichello	45
nan	3	Ralf Schumacher	40
2	4	Juan Pablo Montoya	40
nan	5	David Coulthard	34
Source: [11]	Source: [11]	Source: [11]	Source: [11]

F1ABY Commentary

Did the scent of diesel and burnt rubber ever truly mask the quiet desperation clinging to Anthony Davidson’s arrival? The Minardi car, a fragile echo of ambition, seemed to carry the weight of a thousand missed opportunities. Barrichello and Schumacher, locked in their relentless pursuit of dominance, offered a stark contrast, their triumphs shadowed by the unspoken pressures of Ferrari’s unwavering control. Ralf’s podium, a fleeting moment of Williams-BMW glory, underscored the brutal, cyclical nature of this sport. It was a reminder: a single misstep, a fractured strategy, could unravel even the most meticulously constructed dreams.

The air hung thick with the scent of burnt rubber and ambition – Barrichello didn’t simply win today, he exorcised the ghosts of a season haunted by Schumacher’s relentless brilliance, revealing a heart of steel beneath the Ferrari blue.

F1ABY Trivia

The air hung thick with the scent of burning rubber and a palpable tension – a consequence, perhaps, of knowing this was Hungaroring’s swan song. Barrichello, a man sculpted by resilience, navigated the final laps with a quiet intensity, his Ferrari’s 3. 0-liter V10, a snarling beast of 90-degree angles and 580 horsepower, seemingly anticipating every twist of the track. The race, ultimately, belonged to Ferrari, a testament to strategic brilliance and the unwavering will of a driver who understood the soul of the machine.

Seventy-seven laps it took, a brutal baptism for Anthony Davidson – a baptism of rain, and a baptism into the unforgiving heart of Formula One. Schumacher’s second place, a calculated risk, ensured Ferrari’s grip on the Constructors’ title, a dynasty built on a relentless pursuit of numerical advantage.

F1ABY Tales

The rain hadn’t relented, a sullen grey curtain drawn across Hungaroring. Davidson, drenched and shivering in the Minardi, wrestled with the wheel, a frantic ballet against the relentless downpour. Yoong’s absence, a palpable void in the garage, hung heavy – three missed starts, a simmering frustration etched on the faces of the engineers. Schumacher, a ghost of precision behind the scarlet Ferrari, was a full thirty seconds ahead, a testament to Barrichello’s tenacity, a brutal calculation of risk versus reward. It was a desperate gamble, this race, wasn’t it? A final, defiant roar from a team clinging to its crown.

The rain, a sullen grey smear across the Hungaroring asphalt, seemed to mirror the quiet desperation clinging to Anthony Davidson. Seventeen years of yearning, distilled into this single, agonizing moment – a debut, a Minardi, a baptism by monsoon. He’d watched Yoong’s frustration bleed onto the track, a three-race drought a brutal testament to the unforgiving nature of this sport. Davidson, though, possessed a different kind of fortitude, a stubborn refusal to be simply another footnote. He was a young man carrying the weight of expectation, a quiet promise etched onto his face, battling not just the car, but the ghosts of countless hopefuls who’d come before. The Ferrari’s scarlet dominance, a stark contrast to the grey, offered a silent challenge.