Friday drivers
The bottom 6 teams in the 2005 Constructors' Championship and Super Aguri were entitled to run a third car in free practice on Friday. These drivers drove on Friday but did not compete in qualifying or the race.
Race
As of 2023 [update] , Alonso's win remains the last victory for a car running on Michelin tyres, as the manufacturer pulled out of Formula One at the end of the season. Third place finisher Giancarlo Fisichella dedicated to his best friend, Tonino Visciani, who had died on 5 October 2006 after a heart attack.
External links
34°50′35″N 136°32′26″E / 34.84306°N 136.54056°E / 34.84306; 136.54056
Race Result
| Pos. | No. | Driver | Constructor | Lap | Time/Retired |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1 | Fernando Alonso | Renault | 53 | 1:23:53.413 |
| 2 | 6 | Felipe Massa | Ferrari | 53 | +16.151 |
| 3 | 2 | Giancarlo Fisichella | Renault | 53 | +23.953 |
| 4 | 12 | Jenson Button | Honda | 53 | +34.101 |
| 5 | 3 | Kimi Räikkönen | McLaren-Mercedes | 53 | +43.596 |
| 6 | 8 | Jarno Trulli | Toyota | 53 | +46.717 |
| 7 | 7 | Ralf Schumacher | Toyota | 53 | +48.869 |
| 8 | 16 | Nick Heidfeld | BMW Sauber | 53 | +1:16.095 |
| 9 | 17 | Robert Kubica | BMW Sauber | 53 | +1:16.932 |
| 10 | 10 | Nico Rosberg | Williams-Cosworth | 52 | +1 lap |
Qualifying
| Pos. | No. | Driver | Constructor | Q1 | Q2 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 6 | Felipe Massa | Ferrari | 1:30.112 | 1:29.830 |
| 2 | 5 | Michael Schumacher | Ferrari | 1:31.279 | 1:28.954 |
| 3 | 7 | Ralf Schumacher | Toyota | 1:30.595 | 1:30.299 |
| 4 | 8 | Jarno Trulli | Toyota | 1:30.420 | 1:30.204 |
| 5 | 1 | Fernando Alonso | Renault | 1:30.976 | 1:30.357 |
| 6 | 2 | Giancarlo Fisichella | Renault | 1:31.696 | 1:30.306 |
| 7 | 12 | Jenson Button | Honda | 1:30.847 | 1:30.268 |
| 8 | 11 | Rubens Barrichello | Honda | 1:31.972 | 1:30.598 |
| 9 | 16 | Nick Heidfeld | BMW Sauber | 1:31.811 | 1:30.470 |
| 10 | 10 | Nico Rosberg | Williams-Cosworth | 1:30.585 | 1:30.321 |
The Paddock Breakdown
Barry · Gary · KatGary — 33 · Three Fantasy F1 leagues
The air hung thick with the scent of damp asphalt and anticipation—a familiar shroud at Suzuka. BMW Sauber's Michael Schumacher, a man sculpted by years of relentless pursuit, wrestled with a persistent vibration, the M01's 2. 4-liter V8 coughing under a strain that suggested the gearbox was protesting the relentless Japanese heat. McLaren's Button, a youthful whirlwind, relentlessly pushed the MP4-20's 2. 4-liter unit, chasing a tenth, a hundredth, anything to solidify his position against the established order. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible, dance of numbers—the difference between a podium and simply completing the race.
The air hung thick with the scent of damp asphalt and anticipation—Suzuka, always a crucible. A strange quiet descended as the Friday practice sessions unfolded, a stillness punctuated only by the insistent whine of engines. It's a curious thing, isn't it? The smallest gains here, a tenth or two shaved off a lap, could ripple through the entire weekend, a testament to the brutal, unforgiving nature of this sport.
Kat — 30 · Technical journalist
The rain hadn't relented, not a whisper of it. A fractured, silver blur – Räikkönen's McLaren – skidded through Turn 12, a desperate prayer flung at the asphalt. You could almost taste the Finnish driver's frustration, a metallic tang mingling with the damp air. It wasn't simply about the position, not entirely. It was the ghost of Kimi's past, the weight of expectations, the relentless pressure to deliver for a nation that still held its breath with every overtake. Alonso, meanwhile, remained a cool, calculating presence, his Renault a predator in the shifting conditions, patiently awaiting an opening. The television cameras, a silent audience, captured the raw, unfiltered drama – a microcosm of the human condition distilled into a twenty-one-second burst of speed.
The rain, a sullen grey smear across the Suzuka sky, mirrored the mood in Eddie Jordan's box. He hadn't slept properly in days, the weight of Jaguar's diminishing fortunes pressing down like the damp air. Young Pedro de la Rosa, a quiet intensity radiating from him, was wrestling with a car that seemed determined to defy logic. It wasn't simply a mechanical issue; there was a frustration there, a young driver's desperate attempt to carve a path through the mud – a reflection, perhaps, of the team's own struggle. He adjusted his spectacles, a habitual tic, and murmured something to his engineer, a barely audible plea lost in the drumming rain. The air hung thick with the unspoken: a missed opportunity, a season spiraling, and the persistent, unsettling feeling that something vital had been lost somewhere within the circuit's embrace.