Hook: In the morning F1 digest, a short note flashed by: FIA-accredited photographer Michael Potts caught a close-up in the Zandvoort paddock of an internal Racing Bulls PR document — that very cheat sheet which the press officer was holding next to Yuki Tsunoda. Visible on the sheet were not only possible journalist questions ("Did you speak with your teammates?", "Weren't you supposed to get that seat?", "Do you expect Liam to perform better this time around?"), but also prepared answers: "Laurent called me", "I'm excited, but prepared", "It's impossible to compare last year with the new regs", "This is a matter for Laurent". And most importantly — the instruction: any questions about Lawson, hierarchy, and internal decisions — redirect to team management. The photograph — accidental. The document — standard. The surprise — real: we've believed for 40 years that drivers "answer for themselves", but it turns out that half of the most memorable phrases in modern Formula 1 were written ten minutes earlier in some office with a "Communications" sign. And the tastiest part of this story — that such practice is not news: back in 1985, when Ann Bradshaw came to Williams and became one of the first full-time press officers in the history of the "Circus", the essence of the work was exactly the same — protect the driver from a question the team doesn't yet have an answer to. The technique changed — from handwriting on a napkin to traffic lights system on an iPad — but the engineering task didn't change: separate the driver's emotion from team politics, preserving the illusion that the first exists without the second at all.
Investigation
The Dutch weekend of August 21–23, 2026 was already politically charged: Isack Hadjar suffered a wrist injury during the summer break, Lawson moved up to Red Bull alongside Verstappen, and Tsunoda — reserve driver for both teams — suddenly got a seat at Racing Bulls for one weekend. This was the third "swap" in the Red Bull — Racing Bulls connection in a year and a half (after Tsunoda's own transfer to Red Bull in early 2025 and Lawson's reverse transfer), and each was accompanied by the same risk: any careless driver answer turns into a headline, and the headline — into a political crisis for the entire Red Bull structure. So Racing Bulls prepared a standard document for Tsunoda for such cases. According to F1Oversteer and Formula1News, it contained:
On the F1Oversteer site there's an almost verbatim transcription of what Tsunoda said at the press conference after the leak — and it matches the talking points on the sheet word for word. When a journalist asked "how did you find out about the chance?", Tsunoda answered "Laurent called me". When asked whether he expects Lawson to show a better result at Red Bull than in his first stint in 2025 — the answer sounded exactly as written: "It's impossible to compare last year with the new regs". This is not improvisation. This is — libretto. And it was performed almost perfectly.
Photographer Michael Potts, who has been shooting in the paddock since 2008 and whose work appears in Getty Images, essentially pulled into the light a basic operational artifact that exists in every team — from McLaren to Williams, from Ferrari to Sauber. That he captured it open rather than folded — accident. That the document ended up visible within shooting radius at all — normal operational reality: in the paddock it's impossible to hide everything.
In January 2026, Formula1.com released an interview with Bradley Lord — deputy team principal and simultaneously Chief Communications Officer at Mercedes. Lord said exactly what the Racing Bulls cheat sheet explains, only in softer phrasing: "The way we work with drivers is we brief them, and we have a traffic lights system where green is a topic to say what you think — and we try and have as many greens as possible — and then if we want to present a particular point it might be a red or an amber, but it's very rare there's a conflict".
Translation to human: even Mercedes — a team whose image is built on the "individuality" of Hamilton, and now Antonelli and Russell — operates by a traffic light system. Green — say what you want, red — we have a specific position, amber — be careful. Lord honestly adds: "our task is to protect the drivers, and if something goes wrong, the team will always stand in front of the driver and not leave them exposed". This is not a corporate value. This is operational doctrine — the same thing they did at McLaren in 2008, when press officer Steve Cooper personally climbed the stairs to Heikki Kovalainen with the instruction: "You are humble, remember Massa". Tsunoda 18 years later found himself in the same situation, only instead of a person with stairs — a person with a sheet of paper.
The most important thing in Lord's interview — is what he considers "old school" and what "new school". Before, according to him, "we would print, photocopy and hand out press releases in the media center — that feels stone age". Now — independent press, individual journalists, Netflix, TikTok content, podcasts. Requests for the driver "inundate" — overwhelm. And that's exactly why the press officer became not a "translator from racing to journalistic", but a "gatekeeper with veto power over specific formulations". Lord says directly: "very few drivers spend time digesting media, so our job is to give them a scanner of what's happening and what might come flying".
The 2008 Hungarian GP — one of the most politically sensitive moments of that season. Felipe Massa led the entire race, 3 laps from the finish his engine blew, and Heikki Kovalainen — McLaren's second driver, fighting all day for third place — suddenly became the winner. This was his first and only Formula 1 victory. And at exactly this moment, when any normal person would have said "I won!" and run to the press zone — McLaren sent its press officer Steve Cooper to Kovalainen. According to Kovalainen's own recollection in an interview with Finnish C More:
"After the race, McLaren press officer Steve Cooper came to tell me not to shine too brightly and to pay attention to Massa's misfortune. He gave me instructions as McLaren always indicated the words you should use. I went up some stairs to the press room and he said "you are humble, remember Massa"".
And Heikki obeyed. At the press conference he said exactly what was required: "I feel sorry for Felipe because he had a great race… but my car was going well and I was able to achieve victory". This was his only victory in his career, and he celebrated it with the intonation of someone who'd just been reprimanded in the teacher's lounge. And — attention — this was not an isolated instruction. Cooper said the key phrase: "as McLaren always indicated the words you should use". Always. Systematically. Any McLaren driver at any moment had a card with formulations. Kovalainen was simply the first who told about it publicly.
The most revealing counterpoint to the Racing Bulls story — the case with Charles Leclerc, because he's the only top driver who twice in the last year and a half has allowed himself to publicly refuse the prepared text. In June 2024 at the Canadian Grand Prix, after Ferrari changed his engine and he crashed out in qualifying, Leclerc said right in front of the Canal+ camera: "I'm going to say what I want!" — refusing to read what the press officer had prepared for him. In November 2025 in Las Vegas it repeated: Ferrari chairman John Elkann publicly criticized both drivers for "excessive talking in the press" (after the double retirement in Brazil) and called on them to "talk less". At Leclerc's press conference, questions about Elkann became so routine that Ferrari's representative was forced to intervene: according to BBC journalist Andrew Benson's testimony, mid-session the press attaché asked if anyone had questions "specifically about the Las Vegas GP" — attempting to gently return the discussion to sporting territory. This is a rare case where the system itself failed in real time.
And here's what's important: Leclerc didn't just resist — he actually made impossible the classic operation "redirect to Laurent" (or in his case — to Frédéric Vasseur and Elkann). Because when a press officer says "answer that it's for Laurent", it only works if the driver agrees to it. Leclerc didn't agree. And that's exactly why the Racing Bulls and Tsunoda story — is not simply "the team prepares talking points" (that's banal), but "the system works as long as the driver is willing to be its executor". Tsunoda — agreed. Kovalainen — agreed. Antonelli and Russell at Mercedes, according to Lord, agree with green-categories and red-categories. Leclerc — refuses. And Ferrari is forced to reassemble the entire operational model around him, because the red light on the traffic light doesn't work if the driver ignores it.
The longest horizon in this story is opened by Ann Bradshaw's interview — the person who, by her own admission, was "one of the first, if not the first", whom a Formula 1 team hired full-time to work with the press. This happened at Williams in 1985. Before her — "there was myself, there was someone at Lotus, and that was it more or less". That is, the profession of press officer as a full-time role in Formula 1 has existed for exactly 41 years, and it began with three people for the entire "Circus".
Bradshaw describes her early work at Williams with the same directness with which Lord describes the traffic lights system: "press officer tried to prepare drivers for the questions journalists are going to ask". In her case this meant running after Keke Rosberg, who after the finish was filmed in the back of a truck, because "drivers' rooms" didn't exist then, and grabbing quotes between the Finn putting on his pants. When journalists were surprised by her fearlessness, she answered: "I needed my quotes more than dealing with anything that might embarrass me". This is the original formula of the profession: quote more important than comfort, context more important than truth, frame more important than content.
The most interesting thing in her recollections — that even then there existed a fundamental dichotomy that hasn't gone anywhere in 40 years. On one side, there are drivers like Nigel Mansell, who "took everything to heart" and "sought people out to set the record straight" — that is, were press officers for themselves. On the other — Damon Hill, who "was very introverted" and whom the press officer had to literally fish out of the room to get a quote. Between these poles — Mansell and Hill — the entire profession has lived for the last four decades. Now, in 2026, between the poles of Tsunoda (complete obedience to the cheat sheet) and Leclerc (complete resistance to it) — exactly the same distance.
There are three reasons why exactly the Zandvoort episode became a public "scandal", rather than remaining an internal detail.
First — infrastructural. In 2026 in Formula 1 there are even more shooting points, even more cameras in the paddock, even less space where you can safely hold a sheet with PR instructions. Compare 1985 (Cooper catches Kovalainen on the stairs — nobody sees) and 2026 (press officer holds the sheet right in front of the camera). According to Potts' interview in GPDestinations, photographers now work from media day on Thursday and shoot everything in the paddock. Leak chances geometrically grow each season.
Second — political. Since 2024, Red Bull has been in permanent mode of "explaining personnel decisions". Every driver transfer between Red Bull and Racing Bulls is accompanied by journalistic pressure directed not at sport, but at intrigue. The cheat sheet for Tsunoda — is an artifact precisely of such a situation: any of his answers to the question "why Lawson, not you?" could be interpreted as an attack against Red Bull. So the team closed all holes in advance. But the very necessity to defend — is a symptom: in the Netflix and Drive to Survive era, any neutral driver answer turns into drama.
Third — cultural. As Louise Goodman (journalist and media skills coach for drivers) notes in a major Motorsport.com piece from 2017, "drivers used to sell houses to get into Formula 1; now you need to sell a whole street to get into GP2". The economics changed: a driver now — is a brand, a media asset, and his speech is protected the same way the team's trademark is protected. The cheat sheet — is not so much an instruction for the driver, as protection of the brand.
If you put it all together, Potts' photograph — is not a leak, but an X-ray of a system that's been operating for 41 years. Each of its elements has a precedent:
| Racing Bulls cheat sheet element | Precedent |
|---|---|
| List of expected journalist questions | Williams, 1985: Ann Bradshaw prepared Rosberg for journalists before they even appeared |
| Safe answers with specific formulations | McLaren, 2008: "You are humble, remember Massa" — Cooper personally instructed Kovalainen before the press conference |
| Redirection to leadership ("This is a matter for Laurent") | Ferrari, 2025: Ferrari's press attaché tried to redirect Leclerc's press conference in Las Vegas to Elkann after his criticism |
| Instruction not to give own assessments | Williams, 2017: Lord at Mercedes formulates as "traffic lights system" — green, amber, red |
| Requirement to "support both teams" | McLaren, 2008: Kovalainen shouldn't have "shine too brightly" at the moment when Lewis Hamilton was out of contention |
Not a single element is new. What's new is only the scale: if in 1985 they prepared one driver for one press conference, then in 2026 — each of 10 teams has 2 drivers, and each receives such a cheat sheet at least once a month. And if in 1985 only the press officer and driver could see the paper, then in 2026 it can be accidentally photographed by any of 200+ accredited photographers.
The most non-obvious thing in this story — that it shows the structure of all modern public communication, not just sports. In politics every press secretary has talking points memo — a document with prepared answers to expected journalist questions. In Big Tech every CEO has a media trainer who prepares them for earnings calls and conferences. In defense companies every spokesperson has "red lines" — a list of topics that cannot be commented on. The Racing Bulls cheat sheet — is simply one of the most honest versions of what in other industries is customary to hide under NDA and under the phrase "off the record".
And here's what gets me most as an observer: Louise Goodman in 2017 said one thing that precisely describes what happened in Zandvoort: "my idea of media training is not producing bland little PR automates who just spout the right thing". That is, even the press officer trainer in 2017 already understood that the industry was moving toward speech automation. And nine years later, in 2026, Tsunoda with a sheet in hand — is exactly that "PR automates" that Goodman warned about. Only now the sheet is not in the trainer's head, but in the press officer's hands, and anyone with a camera can see it. What used to remain between the lines of interviews, now appears open source — accidentally, through a photograph in the paddock.
Conclusions
This story fits well the general pattern of how modern communications are structured: we stopped speaking for ourselves long ago and started speaking on behalf of the brand long ago, but we don't want to admit it. A driver at a press conference — is not a person answering questions. This is an interface between the team and the media field, through which only agreed signals are passed. The sheet that Potts photographed — is not an anomaly. This is operational norm that accidentally got in the frame.
What gets me most as an observer — is not that the cheat sheet existed, but how well Tsunoda executed it. When a journalist asked him about Lawson, he didn't pause, didn't search for words, didn't "think about" the answer. He delivered exactly the formulation that was on the sheet, without stumbling, with correct intonation, like a professional actor at rehearsal. And this — is the best proof that Mercedes' traffic lights system, Racing Bulls' cheat sheet, and Steve Cooper's instructions work: the driver is so well trained in them that the viewer doesn't see the seams.
A separate layer — about Leclerc. He's the only one among modern top drivers who systematically refuses to play by these rules, and that's exactly why each of his "wrong" answers turns into a headline. When he said in 2024 "I'm going to say what I want", he did exactly what the system didn't expect from him. And at that moment it became visible how the whole machine is built. Ferrari, Mercedes, McLaren, Red Bull — they all build the same model: driver as mouthpiece, press officer as editor, journalist as reader. Leclerc tries to break this model from inside. He's doing poorly (Ferrari has to constantly intervene), but his very resistance makes visible the system's work at all other teams.
And last — about the photographer. Michael Potts has been shooting in the paddock since 2008. According to his words in a GPDestinations interview, he has "a lot of assignments every session", he "always plans the week starting from the race itself and working backwards", and he has "a very tight schedule on weekends". Among hundreds of his shots for the weekend, one accidentally captured the sheet the team was holding. This is not journalistic investigation, not a leak, not a political move. This is — a side effect of the fact that the Formula 1 paddock has become one of the most densely photographed places on the planet. And there's something very symbolic in this: in an era when we believe drivers speak for themselves, the real authenticity of modern Formula 1 turns out to be a byproduct of the work of a photographer who was simply doing his job.