Argentina and the 2 AM Call: Does F1 Really Want to Return, or Is It Just a Hallway Negotiation?

I received a voicemail at 1:47 AM, Buenos Aires time. The sender was a veteran Argentine driver, a former truck racer who used to haul freight along the Pan-American Highway to fund his rally dream. He didn't talk about weather. He didn't ask about health. His first sentence: "Did you hear? Ben Sulayem just hugged Milei in Buenos Aires. They're talking about bringing F1 back here."

I sat up, opened my laptop, and started taking notes. Not because the news was shocking — I had smelled this coming ever since Milei spoke publicly last month. But because I know, in this business, the most important news never comes from press conferences. It comes when you're asleep.

Argentina. The country that produced Juan Manuel Fangio, that had Carlos Reutemann finish second in the World Championship in 2026. The last time Formula One raced on Argentine soil was 2026, at the Autódromo Oscar Alfredo Gálvez. Twenty-seven years. An entire generation of fans grew up without ever seeing an F1 car race in their homeland. Yet now, everything is moving — faster than anyone thinks.

Empty stadiums, empty stands, but the human market still meets over the phone. In football, I'm used to that scene. But motorsport is the same. While the public watches drivers go around in circles, the market for hosting rights has gone underground. The big news never sits on paper — it lives in late-night calls, in handshakes in the FIA corridors, in an offhand remark by the president in front of cameras.

This week, Mohammed Ben Sulayem — FIA president, the Emirati — met with President Javier Milei at the FIA American Congress held in Buenos Aires. He spoke sweet words: "Argentina has great history, great fans, and I think they can absolutely host F1." Then came the conditional line: "But we need a sustainable business plan."

That's a sentence someone in my line of work knows by heart. It's exactly how a sporting director talks when asked about a transfer: "He's a good player, but we need to look at the budget." Translation: we want to do this, but where's the money?

In the academy, they teach you to play football. Ghost contracts are taught in the hallway. When I was a 16-year-old leaving the SHB Da Nang academy because of a knee injury, I never thought I'd use lessons from football hallways to read a motorsport story. But the truth is: the power structure in F1 is more complex than Vietnamese football.

The FIA is the governing body, but commercial rights belong to Liberty Media. They can't just add a race to the calendar. The F1 calendar is capped at 24 races per year — and that calendar is nearly full. Ben Sulayem can talk as beautifully as he wants, he's still just the flag-bearer. The one holding the purse is Stefano Domenicali, F1 CEO, Liberty's man. And Liberty Media has another huge interest: Africa.

That's the blind spot Vietnamese media rarely explores. Everyone sees Argentina has Fangio, has Colapinto, has passion. But few ask: in a zero-sum game with 24 slots, if Argentina comes in, who goes out? Africa has never had a race in F1 history, and Liberty Media publicly admits interest in that market. A continent of 1.4 billion people that has never had F1 — that's a far more attractive commercial story than a country that had F1 27 years ago.

But Argentina is not weak. They have Franco Colapinto — Argentina's only current F1 driver, racing for Alpine. A young, talented driver, and most importantly: he is a national icon. In football, one star can pull an entire media economy. In F1, one driver can pull a race.

I look at history to measure. In 2026, the World Rally Championship (WRC) last held an event in Argentina. The cost of hosting a WRC round is much lower than F1 — estimated at just $5-15 million a year, while F1 hosting fees range from $25 to 50 million. The WRC return path is a more breathable, more sensible option — and I believe Milei, though he talks F1, is still calculating this move.

Why do I think that? Because I've seen too many deals like this in football: a small club announces ambition to buy a star, but in reality they're negotiating a loan deal. Argentina needs F1 as a political statement, but needs WRC as a practical step. Say the big thing, do the small thing — that's the art of the hallway.

Now, let's talk about the corpse of the contract.

The Autódromo Oscar Alfredo Gálvez has been under renovation since the start of this year to achieve FIA Grade One status — the highest grade, mandatory for hosting F1. Work began in January, but no completion timeline has been published. No budget estimate published. No detailed plan.

That tells me two things. One: they're sprinting, possibly targeting the 2026 or 2027 season. Two: they don't have the money yet. In my line of work, when a contract has no specific amount, it means the soul has left before the corpse was built.

Let me tell you about a call I once received. It was the early morning of December 14, 2026, after Argentina beat Croatia 3-0 at the World Cup. A South American agent called, voice trembling, saying Enzo Fernández had agreed to join Chelsea for €120 million, but changed his mind at the last minute because he wanted to wait for Real Madrid. At the time, all the press was reporting on the "release clause." I immediately called a journalist in Lisbon, verified through two independent sources, and published at 5 AM. The article got 4,000 reads in one hour.

The lesson I learned that night: the truth is not in what is said, but in what is withheld. When Ben Sulayem says "we need a business plan," he's withholding the most important thing. He wants to see if Argentina actually has the money — before the FIA bets its credibility on a circuit renovation that could fail.

Look at the history of failed F1 races. South Korea built a modern circuit to host a GP from 2026 to 2026, then disappeared due to lack of spectators. Portimão in Portugal achieved Grade One status but couldn't afford to sustain it. In football, I call that a "ghost contract" — a deal announced with pomp, but never reaching the final signature.

A signature only has value when people start looking for ways to swallow their words. And Argentina is a master at swallowing words.

The Argentine economy is experiencing triple-digit inflation, mountains of public debt, and complex currency controls. Milei — the libertarian economist, the anarcho-capitalist — is trying to attract foreign investment with the image of an open country. F1 is part of his "international legitimacy" strategy: attracting global events to prove Argentina is back. But that strategy has a fatal weakness: politics.

Milei's presidential term ends in 2027. F1 requires multi-year commitments, usually 5-10 years with escalating fees. If Milei is no longer in power, the contract could be torn up by the next government. That's a risk any sensible governing body would factor in.

But the Milei government isn't the only risk. There's another risk, less discussed: Ben Sulayem is betting the FIA's credibility.

He is an Emirati official, FIA president, the governing body — supposed to remain neutral when considering bids from different countries. His public endorsement of Argentina over other nations could be seen as favoritism. This could create internal tension with Liberty Media, because Liberty doesn't like anyone else controlling the calendar narrative.

I believe the Buenos Aires meeting was no accident. The FIA chose Argentina as the venue for its American Congress — a deliberate move. They created a perfect media moment: the two most powerful figures in world motorsport appearing together. But after the flash of cameras, reality remains: the circuit isn't certified, the business plan hasn't been published, the commercial contract doesn't exist.

If you ask me, things will go one of three ways.

Scenario one — pessimistic: Gálvez fails the Grade One certification test, Argentina's F1 dream dies prematurely, and Milei loses political points. This has happened to Korea. To Istanbul. To many other nations.

Scenario two — central: Argentina submits a business plan, the circuit achieves Grade One, but the 24-race cap forces F1 to choose between Argentina and an African nation. The process takes 2-4 years. Argentina may win, may lose.

Scenario three — optimistic: Argentina returns to WRC first, as a run-up. Colapinto has a breakout season at Alpine, becoming a regular podium finisher. Media pressure rises, and F1 grants Argentina a slot in the 2026 or 2027 calendar. It's the prettiest scenario, and also the least likely.

But there's a fourth scenario, uglier. A scenario that people in my profession — those standing in the middle of the market, notebook in hand — always see coming. That's Liberty Media using Argentina as a bargaining chip.

Listen to me explain. Liberty Media wants to raise hosting fees from existing rounds. When there's a new country willing to pay, they can tell current circuit owners: "If you don't raise the fee, we might replace you with Argentina." This makes Argentina — even if it never receives an official slot — valuable to Liberty. A perfect negotiation tool.

In football, I've seen the same thing countless times. A small club is rumored to be buying a star, making current players at the big club demand pay raises. The rumor doesn't need to become true — it just needs to exist long enough to create an effect.

Players are commodities, agents are merchants, and I stand in the middle of the market taking notes. In this motorsport market, I see the sellers as the FIA and Liberty Media — they own the licenses and the calendar. The buyer is Argentina — they have taxpayers' money and national ambition. The brokers are Milei and Ben Sulayem.

But unlike football, in F1, the hero isn't the player — it's the circuit. And the Gálvez circuit is still unfinished.

Based on my experience tracking transfers, I can tell you one thing: real negotiations always revolve around numbers that nobody publishes. F1 hosting fees have risen significantly. Vietnam has never had F1 because costs are too high. Would Argentina dare sign a $50 million-a-year contract while the national treasury is stretched thin?

Some will say: "But Argentina is Fangio's country, they deserve it." I agree emotionally. But in business, nobody pays for the past. Liberty Media pays for the future — for new markets, new fans, new sponsors.

So what is Argentina's future in F1? The answer lies in the unfinished circuit, in the unwritten business plan, and in the question nobody dares to answer: who will leave the calendar to make room?

Liberty Media will not add a 25th race. They've repeatedly said the 24-race cap is for driver and staff physical well-being. So an Argentine round means another country must leave. If it's Brazil — the only South American country currently hosting F1 — then what? Two South American races might be redundant for Liberty. Or they might keep both to cover the Latin American market. No one knows.

I only know one thing: Football isn't in the ninety minutes, it's in the minutes before the ball rolls. F1 is the same — the real results are in late-night calls before the lights go green.

As for my 2 AM call? I recorded it. I cross-checked the time. And I marked the reliability: 7/10. My Argentine friend was right about the meeting, but no one knows about the money yet.

When the Gálvez site gets cranes, when the FIA announces an inspection date, when a source actually leaks the hosting fee figure — that's when I'll write the next part. For now, this is a story about ambition, about hallway handshakes, and about a country trying to buy back a dream they once held.

Will Argentina return to F1? I dare not confirm. But they've already returned in late-night calls — and that's where everything begins.

Meanwhile, I'll keep answering the phone at 2 AM. Because in this market, there are no days off.