Vettel's capitulation of the 2018 title was the most abject in living memory. Just as their previous Great Hope, Fernando Alonso announced his permanent exit from a sport he still arguably bestrode it didn't pass many by - save apparently Ferrari's head of recruitment - that his replacement was illustrating solely his ability to trip over it. Hiccoughs at first Baku then Magny Cours became a full on coughing fit by September and a death-rattling emphysemic seizure before the autumn leaves had finished falling off trees with the same regularity the German did from the circuit. Hard to pinpoint the greater failure: the ineptitude under pressure or comparative elevation of erstwhile doyen of disinterest, Kimi Raikkonen's stock. For all the talk of the usual dissonant Ferrari foot-shooting, 2018 was Vettel's not the Scuderia's nadir. Vettel could and should win the 2019 title. When and if he doesn't, expect him to be hanging out in the same creche Nico Rosberg does wherein it will be hard to distinguish who out of the assorted infants and Seb is crying the loudest.