Credits: OldLion / Wikimedia Commons — CC BY-SA 4.0.
In Le Mans, from October 3–5, 2025, Squeezie, aka Lucas Hauchard, closed the GP Explorer chapter with the carefully staged “Last Race” of gp explorer 3: 24 creators in F4, 80,000 spectators at the Bugatti Circuit (Le Mans 2025), a peak of 1.4 million on Twitch, and 1.2 million on France 2. Karchez wins. On the ticketing side, the enthusiasm was confirmed, a sign of an event that has become an institution. Beyond the race, it marked a handoff: from the web to the mainstream, from one completed cycle to an open future.
In Le Mans, a Grand Farewell That Brings Together The Track And The Screens
The roar rolled across the Le Mans Bugatti Circuit like a happy rumor. Meanwhile, the weekend opened from October 3 to 5, 2025. For this final edition, Squeezie delivered on his promise: bringing together the momentum of the internet and the fervor of a very real crowd. 80,000 spectators took their places in the stands and along the track. Online, the stream peaked at 1.4 million simultaneous viewers on Twitch, tying and then narrowly surpassing the French record. Public television also showed up: France 2 aired the final, drawing 1.2 million viewers and a 10.8% audience share. The big race started on Sunday, October 5 at 5:50 p.m., with its drama timed to the second, all the way to the podium’s fireworks.
What happened in Le Mans is about much more than a logistical challenge. The GP Explorer closed its story by offering a perfectly composed image of the media present: creators turned drivers, artists on stage, screens everywhere, and that feeling of belonging to the same story despite the fragmentation of formats.
Lucas Hauchard, The Level-Up Of An Image Storyteller
Squeezie, whose real name is Lucas Hauchard, is known for his meteoric rise on YouTube. He is now measured by another skill: the art direction of total events. In three years, he turned a slightly crazy idea into a popular ritual. Through iterations, framing choices, and tweaks, he made The Last Race both the end of a cycle and a mirror of maturity. What stands out is his taste for a meticulously designed setup and simple stories that scale up to the big stage. He did more than bring together web celebrities; he gave them common ground, clear rules, a visible stake, and a performance economy.
The man, who moves forward with a smile and cautious strategy, did not lean into the folklore of the final concert. He kept to a clean, almost classic aesthetic line. Every shot, every transition, every swell of sound seemed to answer the same intention: tell an ending gently, leave behind a memory, and open a door.
A High-Precision Machine, Tuned For Spectacle
In the paddock, the organization was razor-sharp. Twenty-four creators were trained to drive Formula 4 to ensure an even level and impeccable safety. The onboard cameras, the broadcast handoff, the lighting design, the fades to the crowd: everything contributed to an unapologetically technical gesture. The production showed an estimated budget of 10 million euros, a figure put forward by several observers. However, this figure should be treated with caution, as it was not officially confirmed. You could feel the hand of seasoned professional teams. Indeed, a network of sound engineers, camera operators, stage managers, and coordinators was mobilized. This mobilization helped make the project a success. These professionals are the unseen signatures behind a successful live broadcast.
The partner lineup was impressive in scale. Nearly fifty brands joined the setup. They are visible on the liveries of the single-seaters and across the event ecosystem. The official stands and ticketing were overrun as early as Saturday, to the point of causing merchandising sellouts. On the mic, Doigby kept the pace and the warmth, with a voice instantly recognizable, while social networks buzzed in unison. The show went beyond the race through the layering of symbols: concerts, appearances, stage moments, and the codes of rap and esports blended into the same panoramic sauce.
On The Edge, A Clear And Generous Sports Drama
The track spoke with its usual blunt honesty. Karchez, a Spanish YouTuber and streamer, pulled ahead at the end of a final he handled without breaking a sweat. Kaatsup took second place, Maxime Biaggi third, in a trio that sums up the event’s spirit pretty well: sporting intensity, friendly rivalry, and the joy of individual paths. Around them, the grid featured a lineup that says a lot about the times: Léa Elui, Maghla, Baghera, Gotaga, SCH, PLK, Théodort, Mister V, Djilsi, Cocotte (YouTube), and many others accustomed to home screens, yanked for a day away from the stillness of webcams.
What we saw was not a parody of a Grand Prix, but a tightly paced story with restarts, mistakes, and clean overtakes. The F4s provided a stage for the informed amateur: fast enough to impress, controllable enough to tell a story other than fear.
Institutional Backup, Or How Television Joined The Party
That France 2 showed up changes the meaning of the image. The public channel found in The Last Race a way to attract a younger, connected audience. The signal is clear: legacy broadcasting, so often described as sidelined, still knows how to build alliances and rallying events. The bet was to translate a platform-native style into a linear format. On screen, the compromise worked: production that kept Twitch’s edge and TV storytelling that sets things up, explains, and provides context.
The event therefore goes beyond pure entertainment. It becomes a proof of concept. French-speaking internet culture produces formats that are exportable and compatible with major public institutions. These formats can bring in substantial audience shares. We saw inserts go by on the ticker. These combined the grammar of the story with the punctuation of television. The two worlds, long presented as enemies, shared the same track.
Squeezie In Front Of His Crowd, The Controlled Emotion Of A Goodbye
At the end of the day, Squeezie spoke. Just a few words, no more, and it was clear that “The Last Race” was not a cliffhanger but a deliberate decision. He thanked everyone, at length, and recalled the original ambition, the doubts, the sleepless nights. He slipped in this line, now a refrain: “I’m proud of what we managed to do.” The sentence, simple and direct, was enough to sign it. There was no attempt to overplay the tears. The emotion stayed above the white line: clear, contained, dignified.
In this farewell, there was something like the assertion of a style. That of a creator who knows when to close a chapter so the story keeps its shape. The deliberate, announced, and fully owned ending protects the memory. It reminds us that web culture can produce short, intense, memorable cycles without depending on never-ending seasons.
From A Pioneering Format To A Passing Of The Torch
GP Explorer served as a laboratory. GP Explorer 1 and GP Explorer 2 set the scene and tested the formula, between audience records and safety fine-tuning. This third edition validated the hypothesis that had haunted the behind-the-scenes talks: French digital creation can cross the threshold into institution without losing its vitality. Other meetups, other staged fictions, other hybrid sports formats are already being whispered about. Squeezie is under no obligation to cling to the wheel. It’s likely we’ll see him on other fields of invention, where the next convergence is being written. That convergence sits between streaming, music, and the stage.
As we’ve seen: The Last Race should not be read as surrender, but as an upgrade of a personal narrative. Squeezie comes out on top from a bet many had been waiting to see. He brought together trained creators, artists, and technicians around a promise kept. He gave a connected younger generation a shared experience, the kind people talk about long after the lights go out.
The Stage, The Backstage, The Next Chapter
What remains is to write the making of the noise. One could linger on the mixing that matches the violence of the engines without drowning out the voices. One could tell the patient work of the coaches who turned theory into measured gestures. One could detail the reinforced safety and the procedures that accompany every start. All of this matters because the event earned its stature through the quality of the invisible work.
The concerts completed the proposition, not as an extra layer of soul but as another movement in the same symphony. In the evening, the stage redrew the space, the track became a backstage area, and the community re-formed in another way, around choruses and images. The audience stayed with it from start to finish. That proves the promise of a full weekend could hold. This weekend stretched across twenty-four expanded hours.
A Bridge Between Cultures, Signed In Le Mans
In Le Mans, the internet and public broadcasting stopped eyeing each other warily. Twitch and France 2 spoke the same language, one in overflowing live coverage, the other in linear storytelling. The 80,000 people at the Bugatti Circuit make up part of the same crowd, dispersed across different habits. In addition, the 1.4 million online peak and the 1.2 million in front of television complete that crowd. Still, everyone is brought together by a clear story.
These numbers matter because they validate a method. Over three editions, Squeezie turned a format born on YouTube into something institutionally recognized without giving up its pace. ‘The Last Race’ proves that a project born on the web can end cleanly, with clear rules, real sporting standards, and controlled staging.
Squeezie chose the end in order to preserve the form. This exit has nothing to do with fatigue. It is an author’s gesture: close the loop, pass on the tool, leave the follow-ups to other hands. The standings crown Karchez (1st), Kaatsup (2nd), and Maxime Biaggi (3rd), a symbol of joyful sporting rigor. They belong to the moment. He remains attached to the frame, to what allows moments to exist.
We leave the track with one simple conviction: the trilogy is over and the story continues elsewhere. “The Last Race” brings a cycle to a close, but it opens up a broader territory for Lucas Hauchard, where images are made to bring people together. In Le Mans, he drew a clean final line. It looks a lot like a starting line.