From July 18, 2009

Whack Job of the Year

This article originally appeared on SFGate, the San Francisco Chronicle's on-line site.

It was written by Ray Ratto, who no longer writes for the paper.

Jeremy Mayfield may be completely bat-guano crazy. He may also be a man of extraordinary principle. Or maybe it's just the methamphetamine talking.

Now read those three sentences again and tell me you're not hooked on what comes next.

Of all the bizarre stories that have graced our eyes this year, this is the platinum standard - or double platinum standard, or even kryptonite standard. Nothing tops it, and nothing will, not for awhile. Nothing comes close. Not Burress or Beckham, LeBron or Lesnar, not Kobe or Kung-Fu Panda. This is the one, and you may want to strap on the Kevlar before you advance.

Mayfield is a NASCAR driver (hang with us here) who tested positive for meth (ahh, I see your eyelids twitching) by NASCAR (OK, shades of baseball and football testing), fought the subsequent suspension (now it seems like Roger Clemens, sort of), even going to court to get an injunction against his suspension (now it's way like Clemens), was re-tested positive by NASCAR (OK, now we're getting into serious vendetta territory), and his stepmother was one of the people who ratted him out (see? I told you this would get weird), and then he spoke out.

Now here comes the good stuff. Wait, the good stuff? There's good stuff after this?

"She's basically a whore," Mayfield told ESPN's David Newton of Lisa Mayfield. "She shot and killed my dad."

OK, beat that.

Now Mayfield may be fully bughouse, but these are not cards one generally plays in defense of oneself, especially if the lawyer standing at one's side happens to be present and ready to interrupt at a moment's misstep.

He surely has grudges he'd like to share. His father, Terry, died two years ago of what a North Carolina medical examiner called a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the chest, but Mayfield said his stepmother would be served with a wrongful death suit.

And then he spoke again.

"She knows what we've got on her," Mayfield said. "For her to come out and do this is pretty ballsy. Everybody that's ever known me knows I never, ever have been around her for more than 10 hours of my life. She's a gold digger. I knew that from Day 1."

And then he spoke again, claiming that NASCAR is paying his stepmother for ratting him out.

"It wouldn't take much money. She tried to get money from me," he said.

But because a step mom versus son cage match isn't enough for you in these jaded times, Mayfield gives us more, doing what we always claimed baseball's performance-enhancing drug users should have done - fight the tests.

And, ever helpful, he speaks again. He ripped NASCAR, and its chairman, Brian France.

"Brian France talking about effective drug programs is like having Al Capone talking about effective law enforcement," Mayfield said. "They're playing this high school s-, they better be ready. I'm coming after them in a big way. I'm prepared to go all the way and have the backing to do it if it takes everything I've got. I'm not going to back down for something I didn't do."

And he wants to get back to racing, presumably for NASCAR.

Now tell me again about tennis player Richard Gasquet (tested positive for coke, said he got it kissing a girl who had coke on her mouth, and got off), or Steve McNair's end, or Arturo Gatti's or ... well, or anything.

This is the zenith of whack-job stories, and no strange tragedy, outrage, silliness or actual sporting event will top it, not for months at least. What could top it? The National Flame-Thrower Fighting League? Lawyers in catapults? Roger Goodell climbing an erupting volcano just to show how physically vibrant he is?

Yes, as weird as our culture has become, this is a truly special tale, one that will cause even the sports and entertainment worlds to stop and regain their bearings. Maybe you could make up one part of this one, but its pure scorched-earth totality? Not a chance. If Sony Pictures can't get the "Moneyball" project rolling even with Aaron Sorkin, this is the movie for them, no question.

True, this may not work for you sporting purists who want more about the Giants or A's or NFL training camps or whatever is supposed to happen to Stephen Curry, but sometimes you have to forget the local angle, sit back, take stock and breathe in the madness. Because just when you think it can't get weirder, it does.

Put another way, Brett Favre's next news conference comes in 13 days. Unless he's got eye-pecking hawks, talking boars, a bloody two-by-four and Vikings coach Brad Childress wearing only a welder's helmet and a Speedo, Jeremy Mayfield has won the 2009 Our Culture Has Lost Its Damned Mind Perpetual Trophy.