By Barney Flagman

VIR didn’t so much raise the temperature as it clarified who’s actually in control. Colby Mann won it with the kind of economy that’s been the motif of his season, while the podium of Tim Berti and Riley Girard told a second story about a field still adapting to the F4’s edges. It wasn’t the demolition derby we’d seen in earlier rounds, but the incident count stayed elevated enough that strategy—and specifically who did or didn’t take tires—mattered as much as one-lap pace. Several drivers admitted they experimented with rubber at one or both stops; the verdict was mixed, with some finding mid-stint consistency and others discovering the draft punished the extra time on pit road. That’s VIR in an F4: exits are currency, and the back straight pays compound interest.

The win also changes the shape of the championship. With two to go, Mann sits on 384 points, ahead of the absent Adam Miles on 346 and the ever-present Bryan Kelly on 315; Aaron La (291) and Mike Baures (289) lurk, both within a single swing once the third drop hits the ledger. Miles, a pole machine when he appears, will miss Suzuka West as well, which tilts the table further toward Mann and leaves Kelly staring at a very real shot at second if he keeps cashing those high-floor finishes. The arithmetic isn’t conjecture; it’s the season sheet talking.

VIR’s box score had layers beyond the headline. Scott Bell returned to form with a sturdy fifth, a drive that looked more like his season-long “pass more than you qualify” profile than the early-summer wobble. Michael Othon’s late-season conversion continued; tidy laps, low drama. Bryan Perez remained all-action but productive. La was La—fast enough to scare you, conservative enough lately to make sure you actually see him at the flag. Chris Herrera and Andrew Cole filled in the texture of a midfield that’s learned to stop trying to win Lap 1. That’s all consistent with the stat lines: Kelly’s seven top-tens in nine starts, La’s seven in nine, Othon’s three in nine, Perez a perfect four in four, Herrera a perfect four in four, and Cole finding two in five while trending the right way. Mann’s table, of course, reads like a coronation—five wins, eight top-fives, eight top-tens in nine, and an average finish that screams “don’t make mistakes around me.”

There was also the curious broadcast footnote that’s becoming a subplot. CAVOK stayed dark again because Pim Luth strapped back into an F4. The romance of Barber—where he kept it clean and impressed the paddock—didn’t translate at VIR, where his night ended early. That’s racing. But the league’s culture has changed a hair because of it; putting the mic down and the visor down does that, and the Barber-to-VIR arc is part of why this season has been so compulsively watchable. The Barber preview called the mood swing

before VIR perfectly: stints, not sprints; tire care, not heroics; patience through the medium-fast stuff or the car will write your story for you. VIR proved the thesis.

So, Suzuka West—with the chicane—is next, and it’s a very different exam. On a half-length lap, track position is king and traffic management can turn a frontrunner into collateral. Several drivers have already raised eyebrows at the compact layout; “we run half a track,” one quipped, while others pointed to the T2-T3 sequence as a spot where the rear steps out if you ask for more than the car will give. Even the practicalities—pit boxes, flow, patience—came up in the chatter. The read is simple: qualifying matters more than usual, the start matters more than that, and the discipline to treat the chicane as a metronome rather than a dare will separate winners from tire barriers. If VIR rewarded self-control on exits, Suzuka West will reward restraint on entries.

With Miles sitting out again, the top step of the season feels like Mann’s to protect. Kelly is the adult in the room who keeps cashing points while others chase ghosts; if second becomes a Mann-minus storyline, he’s favored in that duel. Don’t sleep on La or Baures for the final podium place once that third drop week lands; both have the consistency to punish even a single ragged Sunday. And if you’re looking for momentum plays, keep an eye on Bell and Othon: the cars look planted, the incident curves are bending the right direction, and Suzuka West’s short-lap chaos tends to reward drivers who make fewer decisions, better.

One last thought from VIR as a compass for Japan: in the debriefs, veterans kept repeating a mantra—“feel slow to be fast.” On a layout as tight and choppy as Suzuka West, that advice is less poetry than survival gear. Bring clean hands and a clear head—or bring a tow.