I know this is quickly turning into a Formula 1 column. But can you blame me? This has been one of the most engaging seasons in recent memory, on every level, from the mass damper ruling to the emergence of the Robert Kubica era. (By the way, there's also an American racing in F1 this year.) And since the Speed Channel stopped shelling out for WRC rights, I've been on a steady diet of F1 and MotoGP. Coming next week, a two-part dissection of Valentino Rossi's best rides of the years!

Anyway, Sunday at Monza was strange, sad, awkward, interesting, and glib. It was also intriguing and curious. It was a departure from the usual dose of sterile impersonal racing that's been Bernie Eccelstone's unfailing recipe for financial success. With the specter of Michael's announcement looming over the entire race, the championship took a back seat to the question: What Formula 1 would be like without Michael?

Maybe the closest thing to this was when Alain Prost's walked away after winning his fourth title in 1993. But we still had Ayrton Senna, albeit for a limited time. And when Senna died three races into the 1994 season, Michael was already impressing everyone enough to be anointed the logical successor. And it's been all Michael all the time ever since—for better or worse.

So with all of that going on, it really didn't matter that Fernando Alonso's Renault (and season) went bust with 10 laps to go or that Kubica became the most famous Pole since the Pope or that the other Schumacher, who's getting over $20 million this year from Toyota, finished ahead of Takuma Sato and Christjian Albers and no one else. None of that mattered. The race was only a prelude to the important bit. Thankfully, Monza is the fastest race on the calendar.

As Michael crossed the checkered flag, the F1 feed cut to the Ferrari monitors on pitlane. Ferrari boss Luca Montezemolo, tan and smiling in a crisp white shirt, his hair in a full blown Farrah Fawcett, wrapped his arms around Jean Todt, who turned away and looked like he was getting swallowed by the lightning sand. No smile. Definitely not the look of a happy man.

Here's the deal: rumor had it that Michael wanted to stay on for another season. He likes Felipe Massa as his number two. He thinks they've got one more championship in them. And he's got a good case, too. Ferrari look like they're back on form. But there's just one problem: Kimi Raikkonen was available. This was Ferrari's chance to lock him up with a long-term contract. So in the end, you had Montezemolo on one side and Michael's camp, which includes Jean Todt, on the other.

You can't blame Ferrari. Even if Michael has another good year in him, Kimi is 27 and much sharper than Michael at this stage of his career. Plus, Kimi is one more car failure away from going postal on the entire paddock. So everyone wins. Regardless, the entire situation set the stage for some of the most awkward footage in F1 history.

Michael parks his Ferrari beside Raikkonen's McLaren and the two drivers shake hands. Montezemolo, now so overly giddy that his pupils are dilating, climbs over the railing and lingers by the Ferrari camp as Michael walks toward the crowd. He's on a direct line to Montezemolo, but at the last minute, makes a quick detour to the left and embraces his platoon of mechanics. More surprising: the F1 feed captures this. Even more surprising: Speed TV doesn't cut to commercial.

Now Michael has been with the mechanics for an awkwardly long time, and it's clear at this moment that he's avoiding Montezemolo. Eventually, the Ferrari boss rushes up to Michael and then proceeds to administer one of the most one-sided man-hugs since the Jean Todt lightning sand experience. Michael even makes the same face. (And yes, Jean Todt is one of those names that you have to always refer to in its entirety.)

Michael manages to crawl away from Montezemolo's grasps and finds Jean Todt. As if to rub it in to Montezemolo, he wraps Jean Todt in his arms and the two match smile for smile. And then, inexplicably, they rub noses.

Remember at this point, Michael hasn't officially made his announcement nor has Ferrari announced his successor. But all the clues point to his retirement and something more… On the podium, Michael taps Kimi on the shoulder during the Italian national anthem and says something that probably sounds like, "You better get used to this song." Kubica, by the way, looks like he just went number two in his suit.

Here is my favorite thing about Sunday's grand prix: It was a real human event. Not even the lame director in charge of the universal F1 feed could avoid it. For a moment there we got to see the game within the game, the stuff that usually gets snuffed out by PR doctors before it leaves the paddock.

Emotions rarely appear in F1. It's been beaten out of the drivers and the sport. There's no trash talking. The podium drivers don't look like they enjoy the champagne celebrations. The post-race interviews are nothing more than platitudes in foreign accents. And though Michael's farewell speech wasn't any different. He did let slip who his successor would be—just before Ferrari announced it had signed Kimi Raikkonen to a three-year deal. And when Michael was done and Peter Windsor turned his attention to Kimi, I could've sworn I saw an ever so slight hint of a grin.

Fumes appears the first and third Tuesday of every month. Richard Chang can be reached at rich@urbanracer.com.