Johan Bruyneel—the architect behind Lance Armstrong’s seven Tour de France victories—has finally come forward to reveal his side of the story. Once hailed as a tactical genius, Bruyneel became synonymous with one of the biggest scandals in sports history. Now, with a lifetime ban in hand, he’s ready to talk—and he isn’t holding back.
Speaking publicly for the first time since the infamous 2012 USADA report, Bruyneel claims he and Armstrong became scapegoats for a doping culture that plagued the entire peloton. “We didn’t invent the system—we were trapped in it,” he asserts, challenging the long-standing narrative that painted them as the sole villains of cycling’s dark era.
Living quietly in London and Madrid during years of legal turmoil, Bruyneel watched as the world turned its back on his legacy. While Armstrong’s confession to Oprah rocked the world, Bruyneel says the timing was never right for him to speak—until now. With a new book in the works, he promises an insider’s look into what he calls “the EPO generation.”
The former team director doesn’t deny the doping—but he does reject the idea that his team led the charge. He points to reports like Operación Puerto and other high-profile cases to argue that doping was far more rampant, and in some cases, dangerously uncontrolled. “Compared to some of the things others were doing, we were conservative,” he claims.
In a stunning admission, Bruyneel accepts responsibility for the toxic culture within the team. “We were arrogant. We acted like kings. And that arrogance hurt people,” he says. He admits their dismissive and aggressive behavior toward journalists and anti-doping authorities only worsened public perception. Still, he argues, it doesn’t justify a lifetime ban.
He recalls a time when winning became an obsession, and the team felt “untouchable.” From the outside, they appeared invincible. Inside, Bruyneel describes a pressure-cooker environment where victory trumped everything. “We didn’t just want to win—we had to win,” he explains. “And in that obsession, we lost ourselves.”
Bruyneel takes a direct swipe at USADA’s claim that his team ran “the most sophisticated doping program ever.” He calls the statement “sensationalist” and claims it was designed to amplify the scandal. “Look at Fuentes, look at the others. We weren’t running a lab—we were just trying to survive in a sport where nearly everyone was doing the same.”
The ex-team boss also lifts the veil on internal rules that he says were stricter than the UCI’s. He describes removing a rider from competition for exceeding the team’s hematocrit threshold—even though the UCI hadn’t flagged it. “We had limits. We were careful,” he insists, adding that they even discovered young riders using EPO behind their backs.
As his story gains traction, Bruyneel is pushing for a broader discussion about the systemic nature of doping during that era. “It wasn’t just us. It was the whole sport,” he states. And while he expresses regret for how his team behaved, he questions why only a few individuals have paid the ultimate price while many others walk free.
With his upcoming book set to dive deeper into the murky world of cycling’s dirtiest decade, Bruyneel leaves fans and critics alike with a chilling thought: “If the truth had come out earlier, cycling wouldn’t just have lost Armstrong—it would’ve lost an entire generation.”