George Russell: the rise of the kid on the quad bike from Norfolk
From anxious child to six-time grand prix winner, the 28-year-old reflects on the drive, sacrifice and resilience that carried him to the front of the grid — and his marriage hopes
George Russell at Silverstone
Amid the howl of engines and roar of the crowd at the start of the British Grand Prix next month, expect the loudest cheer to be reserved for George Russell, the plucky 28-year-old driver from Norfolk. He grew up just a couple of hours from the Silverstone circuit, where 164,000 spectators will gather on July 5 for the highlight of the British motor racing calendar, yet his journey to Formula 1 has arguably been the longest of any driver on the grid.
Russell learnt his cornering skills riding round a turnip field and mastered gear and clutch control in his mum's VW Polo, complete with tartan seat cushion. "We had a lot of space at home because we lived in the middle of nowhere, and sliding a quad bike around on the muddy fields was probably quite a good way for me to learn car control from such a young age," he says.
A self-confessed anxious youngster who grew up "afraid of his own shadow", Russell dreamt of being a champion. By the age of five he was the proud owner of a full Michael Schumacher racing suit to ride his quad bike. At seven he was behind the wheel of his own go-kart.
Young George on his quad bike
His mother, Alison, was a hairdresser whose family ran a furnishing store called Else Discount - its slogan "Who else but Else" - while his father, Steve, sold seeds and pulses to farmers. From such inauspicious beginnings Russell has notched up 26 F1 podium places and six grand prix wins, including the first race of this season in Melbourne, Australia, where he stormed to victory for Mercedes after setting the fastest lap time of the race weekend.
We're sitting in the British Racing Drivers' Club at Silverstone, where Russell is having his picture taken in front of a trophy cabinet celebrating past race winners, including James Hunt, to whom he has often been compared for his take-no-prisoners driving style and abundance of hair.
In front of a trophy cabinet at the British Racing Drivers' Club at Silverstone
Among the current F1 drivers — there are only 22 — he stands out as one of the tallest, looming over his closest rivals at 6ft 1in, the same height as Hunt. F1 races are won and lost on differences measured in ounces and milliseconds, which gives drivers like Lewis Hamilton — 5ft 7in — a natural advantage.
"You need a body a bit similar to a rock climber," he says. "You can't be too heavy. You need to be strong and fast. If you're big and bulky, it just slows you down."
James Hunt in 1973
Russell is relaxed and chatty, remarkably so given his recent run of bad luck while racing for the Mercedes-AMG Petronas team. At races in China and Japan in March he was cheated of victory by technical failures and other setbacks. At the most recent grand prix in Montreal last month his car broke down on lap 30 while he was leading the 70-lap race. Climbing out of the stranded car, Russell uncharacteristically showed his frustration — and something more reminiscent of Hunt — hurling his head restraint to the ground and earning himself a €5,000 fine, suspended for 12 months on condition of good behaviour.
"I'm a bit lost for words if I'm honest right now," Russell said of the disaster. "Everything turned off all of a sudden… engine stopped."
Asked after the race if his championship hopes were jinxed, he said: "Right now it feels like the gods don't want me to be in this fight — when I look at the safety car timing in Japan, breaking down in China, fighting for pole, breaking down from the lead here today. But I'll go out and enjoy every single race, try and win every single race, and I've got nothing to lose. Hopefully the luck turns."
Russell's loss at Montreal was, of course, a gain for Formula 1, which thrives on exactly these sorts of dramas and misfortunes. From a sport once followed mainly by diehard enthusiasts, it has become a global sensation, with 800 million followers worldwide, including 50 million in the US, where it gained a foothold only recently. It now boasts two American teams, including Cadillac — a new entrant this year. When F1: The Movie, starring Brad Pitt and featuring Hamilton, who was one of its producers, was released last year it quickly became the highest- grossing sports film of all time, earning $634m.
At the New York premiere Russell and Pitt stood together on the red carpet, casually joking about their identical salmon pink shirts and drawing sartorial comparisons for their matching dark suits. Who was best dressed? “I'm definitely not going to say myself because that guy is [just] ridiculous [as in, a legend]."
Brad Pitt and Russell share their delight in their matching outfits at the premiere of F1: The Movie
Russell's long-limbed, rangy looks have made him a regular on Drive to Survive, the Netflix series that purports to lift the lid on the gilded and sometimes dangerous lives of the sport's leading lights. It has made Fl a huge turn-on — literally — for TV audiences. No longer are drivers' faces only seen obscured by balaclavas and helmets. Instead viewers are treated to the spectacle of these bronzed A-listers on sunloungers or in power boats between bouts of intense speed and adrenaline.
The 22 Formula 1 drivers for this year ahead of the Australian Grand Prix in March
Does the series paint a true picture? "I've never actually watched it. There's a lot of socialising, because the truth is we're all on the same schedule. We all know we're going to be at this race together from Thursday to Sunday. Then we fly back to our homes, which for over half the drivers is Monaco. And then a lot of drivers enjoy playing padel. So you sort of bump into a few people. There's only so many places you can go in a country that's two square kilometres."
Are some scenes stunted up, as has been suggested? "I respect it for what it is but it's sometimes more like a reality TV show than a sports documentary," Russell says. "Obviously, when you're in the sport, you kind of know the reality and sometimes it is very different from what people like to imagine."
Because the cameras and cockpit microphones pick up everything that goes on during races and behind the scenes, drivers' emotional responses tend to get amplified, he says.
"I've been known to lose my head once or twice — something I've already worked on a little bit over time. What may seem like a driver totally losing his stuff [is just because his comments are being relayed live from the cockpit]. It would be the same if you were to put a microphone on a footballer during a match. In reality, every person on the planet — when something doesn't go their way, or they stub their toe — people lose control for a second but the difference for us is that it's being broadcast to tens of millions of people."
Russell admits he has had a turbulent history with Max Verstappen, the four-time world champion, culminating in a war of words. Following altercations on the track, Verstappen referred to Russell as a dickhead and "Princess George". In turn, Russell labelled Verstappen a bully who turns to "unnecessary anger and borderline violence when things do not go his way".
In grumpier times Max Verstappen called him "Princess George", while he labelled Verstappen a bully. Russell says they are closer now
Relations have since improved. “I honestly think he’s changed a little bit in the last year,” Russell says. “I respect him a huge amount on track and I respect his competitiveness. He’s now doing these races in the GT category for the love of it, which I admire — and if I was a four-time world champion I’d probably be doing the same.”
Last year McLaren won both the driver’s and constructors’ championships in a clean sweep. This year it is Russell’s Mercedes team that is setting the pace. The main obstacle to Russell’s personal championship hopes is his teammate, Kimi Antonelli, a teenage wunderkind who has won four of the five grand prix this season and is leading the 2026 driver’s championship by a whopping 43 points, with Russell in second place.
He has nothing but praise for the 19-year-old. “He’s a fantastic driver and he’s been exceptionally quick from day one. You don’t win all [the time] as a youngster if you don’t have the speed,” he has said.
Russell can take some credit for having helped bring Antonelli on from a rookie and iron out his flaws, but could the student be about to eclipse the master? With 17 races left to run, there’s still all to play for. Much will hinge on this weekend’s Monaco Grand Prix, when a win for Russell would keep him firmly in the running. Last season Verstappen came from 104 points behind in the driver rankings to finish the season only two points behind Lando Norris, a recovery billed as the greatest comeback in F1 history. It would take an effort of Verstappen proportions for Russell to overturn his teammate’s lead, a fact he acknowledged after Montreal.
Russell hopes his luck and championship chances will have improved by the time he returns to Silverstone for the British Grand Prix on July 5
But overcoming odds is something Russell is used to. In the money-focused world of F1— last year revenues hit almost $4bn — he has become used to being the underdog. The challenges of getting a seat mean many or most drivers are scions of motor racing dynasties or the sons (there are no women, even though F1 is open to both sexes) of business magnates and plutocrats.
Lance Stroll’s father, Lawrence, is a Canadian billionaire and racing team owner. When Lance was old enough to compete in F1, Lawrence bought the Force India team, transforming it into Aston Martin, for whom Lance now races. Adam Norris, the father of Lando, winner of last year’s driver’s championship for McLaren, co-founded the investment company Hargreaves Lansdown and made a fortune estimated at £200m. And Antonelli’s father is Marco Antonelli — a successful racing driver who founded the Antonelli and AKM racing teams and coached young Kimi.
None of this understates the talent and capacity for hard work required of the youngsters who make it into F1, with or without family money. But it does make Russell’s journey from the lowland fens to the Monaco highlife all the more unusual.
From an early age Russell showed extraordinary doggedness. His family pinballed round the country to out-of-the-way, windswept kart circuits, and young George raced in all weathers.
“We had a little motorhome that we’d travel in to get to the tracks every weekend,” he recalls. “You try to build a community at the kart track but those kids are your competitors and I was the kid everyone wanted to beat. So I guess, yes, you do feel that isolation as an eight, nine, ten-year-old.”
As he advanced through the junior ranks, the costs of racing quickly outgrew the family’s funds — “£50,000 a year if you want to compete; £200,000 if you want to win,” he said. His father sold his seed business to give young George’s career a boost, but it still wasn’t enough to cover the £800,000 cost of a Formula 2 season.
In the nick of time he was talent-spotted by Mercedes and fast-tracked through its driver development programme. Soon after that doors began opening in quick succession. In 2018 he won the Formula 2 championship, and he made his F1 debut with the Williams team the following year. In 2022 he switched back to Mercedes and was paired with Hamilton, a seven-time world champion, who became his mentor.
When Hamilton left to join Ferrari last year, Russell moved into the senior driver role on a contract worth a reported £30m a year. The money is enough to have allowed him to reimburse his parents for their help climbing the motorsport pyramid. “[Growing up], we were all in this together and that’s why, as soon as I started earning money, I said I’d like to wipe that slate clean. It wasn’t even a debt because my father never asked for the money.”
He adds, with a wobble: “I feel incredibly grateful to the people who opened doors for me and believed in me — to all of them: thank you for giving me the opportunity to get where I am today.”
Where he is today is a stone’s throw from the beach in Monaco, amid palm trees and megayachts. He has 8.7 million Instagram followers and his good looks have made him a sensation in China on a local version of TikTok, where his handle is Big Sister — a phonetic interpretation of his surname that suits his position as a role model for Antonelli. These days Russell drives a £2.4m Mercedes AMG One supercar — a long way from his mum’s VW Polo.
It was all very different when Hunt was racing six decades ago. He was paid a salary of only £15,000 by Hesketh. When he retired three years after winning the driver’s championship in 1976, he bred and sold budgerigars to help make ends meet, earning a meagre £200 per race as a commentator for the BBC. Stirling Moss, the former racing driver and broadcaster, recalled him riding around London on a ladies’ bike with flat tyres.
Hamilton, these days an elder statesman of F1, has observed that there are few drivers like Russell who make it into F1 from humble backgrounds without a leg-up. The entry fees and the expense means that deep pockets are required even for the lower formulas, through which drivers must progress to F1. In describing his own struggle, Hamilton talked about escaping from the “slums of Stevenage” — a phrase he later retracted after being ticked off by the leader of Stevenage borough council for implying the Hertfordshire town was a ghetto.
The trick to surviving in the dog-eat-dog world, says Russell, is to stay grounded. For that he credits Carmen Mundt, variously described as a fashion influencer and investor relations associate, who he started dating when he was a relatively unknown driver for Williams. They met in 2020 on a double date while she was studying business management and finance at the University of Westminster. She had no idea at the time he was a racing driver, but they hit it off and he invited her for a home-cooked meal (sea bass and roasted vegetables). “I thought he was really funny,” she has said. “It’s really lucky we met when we did because we settled into our life in a really smooth way.”
With his girlfriend, Carmen Mundt, at Monza in 2025
Mundt accompanies him to races and Russell has said: “Carmen brings me stability when it comes to racing and also a way to disconnect. Without doubt she’s my future. So [I hope we’ll be married] in due course. It won’t be next week, but it won’t be longer than five years. So somewhere in that timeframe.”
For her part, she has said of his motor racing career: “He’s probably in the best place he’s been — ever. He’s almost unbreakable at this point.”
What the Drive to Survive cameras don’t show is some of the punishing off-screen work required for drivers to endure conditions of extreme temperature and the G-forces that result from track speeds of up to 220 mph. “You’re locked into a seat that is custom made for you, so your body can’t go anywhere. However, your neck takes the strain. An average head weight is six to eight kilos, plus 1.5 kilos of helmet. So times that by five through a 5g corner. You’re talking in the order of magnitude of 45 kilos of force you’re holding with your neck. On a track like Silverstone, you would experience that under braking and in cornering about nine times every lap.”
He adds: “I’ve got a special sort of harness I can hang weights to. As a kid I used to hang off the size of a bed, wearing my helmet, and just sort of move my neck up and down, side and side.”
Like many successful drivers, Verstappen included, Russell admits he’s driven by demons — in particular a fear of failure associated with the stopwatch his dad used to time him during kart practice. “I wasn’t afraid of the kart, or the speed, or the track. I was afraid of that stopwatch,” he wrote recently for the Players’ Tribune. “I’d drive as fast as I could. I think it was fear that was pushing me. When I finished I’d look up at my dad and know. I’d know.”
“How’d I do?” Russell would ask.
“Nope,” his dad would say. “Not competitive. Do it again.”
Russell says: “It took me probably six years to realise what was happening. Then I finally figured it out: my dad was deliberately adding seconds to my time. He wanted me to always think I was just a bit slower than I was. It taught me that even when I was winning everything, I could always push myself further.
“Would I rather he’d patted me on the head and told me everything is great? What I now know is that the toughness he put in me has set me up for life. He didn’t give me all the traditional childhood cradling in the world but he put his hand in his pocket and gave me every available penny he had. He sold his business to fund my racing.”
His parents, Alison and Steve, who sold his seed business to support Russell's nascent career and found a sly way to teach his son to push himself
Even before the red lights wink on and go out to signal the start of the British Grand Prix, Russell’s fate may already have been decided in Monaco this weekend and in Barcelona on June 14. The safe money may be on Antonelli, but you’d be wise not to bet against the kid on the quad bike from Norfolk.
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