Every year, cycling teams unveil a fresh batch of photos showcasing their riders and the latest team kits. But here’s the shocking truth: those pristine headshots you see might not be as real as you think. Yes, you’ve seen them everywhere—team websites, stats databases, even trading cards—but have you ever stopped to question their authenticity? These images follow a familiar script: a rider stands against a neutral backdrop, decked out in a brand-new kit, often staring straight into the camera with a neutral or slightly smiling expression. It’s the go-to formula, unchanged for years, that serves as the official record of their season. The photographer snaps the shot, and life moves on—but what if that photo is more fiction than fact?
And this is the part most people miss: some of these riders might not have even been present at the training camp where these photos are supposedly taken. It’s a curious phenomenon that raises more questions than answers. How widespread is this practice? And why does it happen in the first place?
The rabbit hole of questionable headshots first caught my attention while browsing the Alpecin-Deceuninck team website for a completely different story (specifically, the burning question: does a team sponsored by an anti-hair loss shampoo brand only hire riders with flawless hair?). But as I scrolled, something else stood out—a pattern of suspiciously identical bodies across different rider photos. It started with Tobias Bayer, Sylvain Dillier, and Luca Vergallito, whose images bore telltale signs of Photoshop. Bayer’s skin tone mismatch was glaring, while a distinct vein on the right arm of the other two riders seemed to repeat across photos. Even Dillier’s Swiss national champion armbands appeared suspiciously added in post-production.
But the deeper I dug, the more perplexing it became. Why does Jimmy Janssens’ headshot look so… off? Is Edward Planckaert’s head really that disproportionately large? And if Alpecin-Deceuninck isn’t hiring riders based on hair quality, how do we explain the presence of a rider named Simon Dehairs on their roster? Is this just a quirky coincidence, or is there something more systematic at play?
This discovery raises broader questions about authenticity in sports branding. Are teams prioritizing visual consistency over reality? And if so, what does that say about the industry’s values? But here’s where it gets controversial: could this practice be seen as harmless creative license, or is it a deceptive tactic that undermines trust with fans? Let’s spark a discussion—what do you think? Is this a clever workaround for logistical challenges, or a step too far into the realm of fakery? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
