Let's be clear, Dr. Frank Meza’s story went mainstream for three reasons:
1. He cheated to achieve the world’s best “over-70” time in the marathon. That age, 70 years old, has real significance to aging boomers, who want to live as fully as possible into their later years. Athletes like Ed Whitlock, Gene Dykes, and Jeannie Rice on the women’s side have literally helped to change the idea of aging. They shift the paradigm. The false time belittled real accomplishments that resonate beyond running.
2. He cheated in the Los Angeles Marathon. The City of Los Angeles provides extraordinary support for its marathon, shutting major roads down to allow the marathon to pass through iconic sections of the community. It starts at Dodger Stadium, moves down Caesar Cheves Blvd and into downtown, through Chinatown, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sunset Strip, Rodeo Drive, ending at the waterfront in Santa Monica. Runners typically think of our participation in such events in purely individual terms – my time, my place, etc. – but the LA Marathon is a major public celebration and community ritual. It is not a turkey trot in some local, neighborhood park.
3. He was Dr. Frank Meza, not Eleanor Rigby. As The Eastsider article shows, Dr. Meza was many things in his community – a doctor (indeed, a Chief Medical Officer), a coach, a mentor to many, an active supporter of affordable health care, a patron of the arts. To me, he seems rather like a late-20th/early 21st century Latino version of George Bailey from A Wonderful Life: someone who dedicated much of his life to creating a vital, living, better community. When someone of Dr. Meza’s stature is discovered in transgression, that discovery will resound in his community.
In short, the editors and writer at the LA Times and local TV affiliates saw in this case a valid story for their community. It could not be otherwise. And once such a story makes the LA news, it is fodder for national distribution. The suicide bumped the story to a whole new level.
As reflected in recent stories, Dr. Meza’s immediate family and perhaps others seek to maintain their vision of him as an incorruptible champion. To me, Dr. Meza was a kind of champion who achieved great things. But at what price greatness? He had brilliance and drive – he worked hard and successfully for his community – yet perhaps he loved the validation that came from those real accomplishments. I suspect that in some way his cheating was the flip side of that same drive, or that it grew from the same root. It is deeply unfortunate, but would his family rather he didn’t cheat, but also that he didn’t achieve all the wonderful things that were eulogized at a funeral attended by 1200 friends and family? People are all complicated, but when you say someone “is complicated,” somehow they don’t take it as a compliment.