What do you get when a billionaire oligarch pulls every string imaginable to land his son a coveted seat in Formula 1, the most exclusive racing series on Earth? You get Nikita Mazipin.

In the high-stakes, high-speed world of F1, names are forged in the fire of competition and remembered for their triumphs. But Mazipin’s legacy is not one of victory. He is a driver remembered not for podiums or championships, but for an embarrassing barrage of spins, crashes, and penalties that tragically outnumbered his points. His brief, tumultuous career became a flashpoint for fan outrage, culminating in a disgraceful exit that left the sport reeling.

Off the track, his reputation somehow managed to get even worse. A scandalous video that sparked global condemnation, explosive legal disputes, and a near-constant stream of controversy had fans and pundits alike asking the same question: Did he ever truly belong in F1?

While most drivers endure a brutal, decade-long grind to prove their worth, Mazipin arrived with his father’s billions paving the way. He left as one of the most disliked and ridiculed names in the sport’s modern history. This is the story of how Nikita Mazipin went from a privileged Russian rich kid to the undisputed face of Formula 1’s “pay driver” problem.

Born in Moscow in 1999, Nikita Mazipin’s path to motorsport was lubricated by a resource most aspiring drivers can only dream of: unlimited money. His father, Dmitri Mazipin, is a powerful billionaire industrialist who controlled chemical giants Uralchem and Uralkali, two of Russia’s largest fertilizer companies. From Nikita’s very first days in karting, his father’s influence was the engine behind his career.

To be fair, Mazipin wasn’t entirely without talent. He secured a Russian national karting title and, most notably, finished second at the 2014 CIK-FIA World Championship. The only driver to beat him? A kid named Lando Norris. On paper, that sounds impressive. But in reality, karting is filled with youngsters posting similar results. What separates future champions from the pack is consistency and the ability to climb the ladder. Mazipin had flashes of skill, but his father’s money was always there to build the ladder for him.

Wherever Nikita raced, his father’s sponsorship was “plastered on cars and banners”. This changes everything. For most families, a single season in a junior formula like F3 is a financially impossible dream. For the Mazipins, it was pocket change. Doors that remained bolted shut for more talented drivers swung wide open for Nikita.

His 2016 debut in the FIA European Formula 3 Championship was a brutal reality check. He was nowhere near the front, looking utterly lost and far from future F1 material. He made some progress in 2017, but his switch to the GP3 Series in 2018 finally gave him some momentum. He won two races and finished the season as runner-up. For a moment, it seemed like he might be proving himself.

But even then, the spotlight wasn’t his. He was beaten to the championship by the late, great Antoine Hubert, a driver who had earned the paddock’s genuine admiration. Mazipin had numbers on the board, but he wasn’t dominating. The following year, his step up to Formula 2, was a complete disaster. He was involved in a massive crash and finished a miserable 18th in the standings with zero wins and zero podiums. His climb had stalled.

He bounced back in 2020, grabbing two wins and finishing fifth. But context is everything. That same year, Mick Schumacher won the title and Yuki Tsunoda finished third; both were instantly promoted to F1 on pure merit. Mazipin’s results weren’t enough to be seen as a star, and his bright moments were already clouded by a disturbing pattern of reckless driving and penalties, including a disqualification for forcing a rival off the track. Teams and fans already questioned if he had the temperament for F1.

So, when the Haas F1 team announced him as their driver for 2021, few were surprised by the reason. It was confirmed almost immediately: Uralkali, his father’s company, would become the team’s title sponsor. The car itself was repainted in the colors of the Russian flag. It couldn’t have been clearer. He was there because of money, not talent.

The 2021 Haas lineup was a cruel joke of contrasts: Mick Schumacher, son of a seven-time world champion, paired with Nikita Mazipin, son of a Russian oligarch. One name carried the weight of motorsport royalty; the other carried a cloud of controversy before he even hit the track.

And that controversy hit fast. In December 2020, just weeks after signing his F1 contract, Mazipin posted an abhorrent Instagram story of himself groping a woman in a car. The video vanished, but the backlash was immediate and fierce. The hashtag #WeSayNoToMazipin exploded as fans demanded Haas cut ties. Haas condemned the video but took no further action, a decision that angered thousands and permanently tarnished their reputation.

When the season finally began at the Bahrain Grand Prix, things only got worse. Mazipin’s F1 debut lasted less than a minute. He spun out and crashed just three corners into his first-ever race. The internet immediately crowned him with the brutal, but fitting, nickname: “MazeSpin”.

This wasn’t a one-off. It set the tone for his entire year. He was consistently, painfully, and monumentally off the pace. Race after race, he was often more than a full second slower than his teammate, Schumacher. In a sport decided by thousandths, this gap is an eternity. He earned penalties for ignoring blue flags and became a moving chicane for the rest of the field.

His season “highlight,” a 14th-place finish in Azerbaijan, was completely overshadowed by a near-disaster. As Schumacher attempted to overtake him on the final straight, Mazipin swerved dangerously at high speed, nearly sending both cars into the wall. A furious Schumacher raged over the team radio, “What the… was that? Seriously, does he want to kill us?”

The incident cemented Mazipin’s reputation as not just slow, but reckless. By the end of the season, he had zero points, a reputation for being ridiculed, and the title of the least capable driver in modern F1 history.

If 2021 damaged his reputation, 2022 ended his career. In February 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine. The geopolitical landscape shifted overnight. The one thing his father’s money couldn’t protect him from had arrived. Haas acted almost instantly, dropping Uralkali as their title sponsor and terminating Nikita Mazipin’s contract. He was out.

The fallout was swift. Both Dmitri and Nikita were sanctioned by the EU and UK for their ties to the Kremlin. Mazipin, unsurprisingly, painted himself as a victim, blaming “cancel culture” and politics for his exit. But to fans, the story was simple: his career had never been built on merit, and the war merely sped up the inevitable.

Since then, Mazipin has made noise about a comeback, but no F1 team has shown interest. His name has become “toxic” in F1 circles. He has found some limited success in the Asian Le Mans series, but his F1 reputation remains beyond repair. He continues to strike a defensive tone in interviews, rarely acknowledging his own glaring mistakes.

For enthusiasts, his career is a sore spot, a squandered opportunity bought at the expense of more deserving talents like Callum Ilott or Robert Shwartzman, who were left watching from the sidelines.

Formula 1 has always had pay drivers; money has bought seats since the sport’s inception. But Nikita Mazipin became the ultimate, glaring example of what happens when money so completely outweighs talent. He had every resource, every advantage, and every opportunity imaginable. What he lacked was the raw pace, the consistency, and, most importantly, the respect of his peers. And in a sport as ruthless as Formula 1, no checkbook is big enough to cover those gaps.