Complications and difficulties are part and parcel of Formula One, just as they are in life and even in interviews. One evening, at a swanky golf club in Surrey, I found myself in a nondescript but brightly lit room with Lando Norris. Alongside us were a television crew, his management team, and representatives from Laureus, an organisation that champions the idea that sport has the potential to change the world.

Norris began by speaking honestly about his battles with deep insecurity before clinching the world title last year. Things took a turn when someone from his management company stepped in, answering questions for the 26-year-old driver in an attempt to steer the interview.

Earlier, Norris had been filmed here delivering a brief acceptance speech for the Laureus World Breakthrough of the Year award, an accolade earned by the likes of Rafael Nadal, Lewis Hamilton, Andy Murray, and Rory McIlroy. Chris Hoy presented the trophy since Norris couldn’t make the ceremony in Madrid. The trophy sat between us, and Norris was visibly proud as he reflected, “Going alongside champions from other sports is incredible. As a kid, I never thought that was possible. Some people just know from a young age they’re destined to be champions. I wasn't like that. I always wondered, ‘Can I do this?' Am I able to?’ So this trophy isn’t just hardware; it’s proof that my name is among some incredible people. That's something special.”

At the time the Laureus award was announced, Norris was navigating a rough patch in the season, sitting fifth and 47 points behind Mercedes’ teenage standout Kimi Antonelli. The disruption caused by the war in Iran led to cancellations in Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, giving Norris a rare break to regroup.

About ten days prior, he’d been glued to the Masters final on his couch, captivated by McIlroy’s back-to-back win at Augusta. But, candid as ever, Norris admits he “fell asleep with three holes to go” because of early commitments the next day. Last year’s memories were different; he and his team watched it together in Bahrain.

Can athletes like Norris learn from other sports? “Absolutely,” he says. “You pick up little things from watching and listening, especially from someone like Rory, who’s open about his struggles and adjustments when things aren’t clicking. It resonates more when you know the athlete personally.

“I’ve chatted with Rory a couple of times, but not so much with others like Justin Rose, who I was rooting for last year since he came so close. For someone like him to still be competitive at 45 is inspiring. There’s always something to learn, and talking with them reveals even more about their mindset.”

Norris admits that during his own struggles last year, he sought advice from some top athletes across various sports. “I spoke to a few of the best when things weren’t going well about how they block out distractions and just be themselves, whether on the tennis court or golf course.”

When pressed on who these people were, he politely declines to name names but assures they’re exceptional individuals who helped him find his footing. The timing? “Early in the season, when I wasn’t comfortable with the car. It was fast enough to win races, but I just couldn’t get it right alone. That’s me; I need input from others. Then you have to take that and do the work yourself. Last year was special; only 35 world champions have ever come out of Formula One, so to join that list is quite something.”

Sometimes the reality hits home with surprising clarity. “I was out with friends recently, and one asked me, ‘Don’t you find it odd that you’re world champion?’ It struck me again how cool that is. I get reminded almost every race weekend when I see the No. 1 on my car.”

Norris also values the Laureus award because of its work in supporting disadvantaged communities, including mental health initiatives. “When I was younger, I never thought I’d have a platform to talk about mental health. Realising I can help others like that means more to me in the long run than the championship itself.”

He’s opened up before about wrestling with impostor syndrome and depression in his rookie year, 2019. “I had doubts. ‘Do I belong here? Why can’t I match these guys?’ It felt like I was wasting people’s time. It was tough.”

Despite his own vulnerability, Norris showed empathy early on by ordering 800 personalised water bottles for every McLaren employee, regardless of role. “That was back in 2019, and many still use those bottles,” he recalls. “My biggest motivation has always been making my team happy, as much as winning for myself. Some drivers don’t care as much, but it’s something I’ve always loved.”

He remembers helping mechanics pack up after evenings during his 2018 test driver days. “They work longer hours than anyone, getting up at 4 am. Some of my mechanics today were there on my first test days, back when I was a teenage simulator driver. I’ve also stuck with the same engineers since my first Formula One test in Budapest, 2017.”

Will Joseph, McLaren’s engineering director, once noted, “We perform best when Lando performs subconsciously, without overthinking the driving.” Norris agrees. “It’s every driver’s dream to get there. Sometimes it feels out of reach.”

His quintessential example was last year’s Monaco pole lap, the only one that made him cry afterwards. “Qualifying hadn’t gone well, and I started doubting myself. That had always been my strength since I was a kid. Monaco’s the toughest track for me; it brings fear and unique challenges. You have to push beyond conscious thought, ignore braking points, and just trust you’ll make it through. That lap was something special.”

This season, however, has unfolded differently.

“It’s been tough,” Norris admits. “That’s part of the cost of being world champion and putting all your focus in one basket. Now’s a chance to work on upgrades during this break without races.” The new regulations forced teams to design fresh chassis and engines, and McLaren is well behind Mercedes. How quickly can they catch up?

“It’s hard to say since upgrades come unpredictably. I’ve stopped trying to guess what will happen in F1. But we’re hopeful the car will be more competitive over the next couple of months.”

Earlier in the day, I received a message that Norris’s management preferred not to discuss his friendships and rivalries with Max Verstappen or George Russell, nor delve into the new regulations. Norris has voiced his concerns about the rule changes, describing the cars as “probably the worst” to drive compared to previous generations. Still, I insisted these topics were important.

With ten minutes left, I brought up the regulations again. Although his manager wasn’t physically present, a phone sat on the table, and his voice was suddenly interrupted, insisting on no questions on that issue. I stressed to Norris how crucial the topic was. A young member of his management team stepped forward, saying, “We’re done with time.” I asked if Norris could spare an extra 10 minutes. He looked uncomfortable and replied, “I’m not the boss.”

Despite the restrictions, Norris seemed willing to engage. “That’s fine. I’m happy to answer.” The representative cut in: “No.” Norris smiled awkwardly once more, “I’m not the boss.”

This kind of control felt at odds with Norris’s typically open demeanour, especially given McLaren’s policy of allowing him uncensored media access during race weeks.

We touched on other matters, like the upcoming Miami Grand Prix, more. A place where Norris celebrated his emotional first win of the 2024 season. When I asked if catching Mercedes was still plausible, the management voice interjected again: “We’re done with time.”

When I pressed why even that mild question was off-limits, the answer was a flat “No, we’re not answering that.”

Even Norris seemed exasperated, turning to the manager and urging, “Just say yes.” In the end, he went ahead and answered on his own: “Yes, we can catch Mercedes, and we’re doing our best to make sure it’s us.”

When it came to whether Verstappen might quit F1, laughter broke out among the managers. Norris shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Max can do whatever he likes.” I remarked how it seemed Norris didn’t enjoy the same freedom, which felt odd given his intelligence.

The representative then ramped up with an overly enthusiastic, almost scripted endorsement of Verstappen, as if speaking for Norris: “He’s an amazing guy. Max is the best person ever, and we love him. Quote.”

At the end, I shook hands with Norris and thanked him for his time. After he left, I approached the talkative young manager and, gesturing to my white hair as a sign of experience interviewing famous athletes, remarked that I thought he and his team were doing Norris a disservice.

I extended my hand and walked off into the night, left with a sense of regret not just over the curtailed interview but over the fact that an admirable world champion has to be so closely managed and muted.