There’s something rather poetic about redemption in sport. One week, you’re skating through the grass in Melbourne, gift-wrapping victory to your team-mate. The next, you’re standing tall on the top step of the podium, arms aloft, delivering a masterclass in race control. That was Oscar Piastri’s tale in Shanghai. At the Chinese Grand Prix, it wasn’t so much a race as it was a well-composed symphony of pace, precision, and poise. ...

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