Last night I invited my young children to stay up past their bedtime to watch Showtime with me. Typically, my husband and I wait until they're fast asleep before we indulge in recorded episodes of "Weeds," but at 7 p.m., with jammies donned, we tuned into "Bud Greenspan Presents: Beijing 2008 -- America's Olympic Glory."

One frame of video zapped me back to the green couch in my parents' den where my dad fiddled with the television antenna to get clear reception of Greenspan's 22-part Emmy Award-winning documentary series, "The Olympiad." I learned from listening to David Perry's distinctive baritone that Jesse Owens disproved Hitler's theories of the master race by winning four gold medals at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Training footage of Nadia Comaneci gave me a peek behind the Iron Curtain, and polio survivor Wilma Rudolph became my hero when she nabbed four gold medals at Melbourne.

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Would Greenspan's stories similarly affect my children? Bejing is so 2008, my daughter reminded me, and while my kids enjoyed watching the Olympics, they'd grown accustomed to the fancy graphics and quick cuts that characterized the network's coverage.

Good news. Even my busy 6-year-old son can hang with stories that breathe, stories told through an elegant inter-cutting of b-roll, archival footage, and tastefully lit interviews where the camera lingers long enough to let the subjects punctuate their thoughts with a proud smile or a look of regret.

We expected a Michael Phelps piece, but this would have been too obvious for Greenspan. Instead, he tells the story of Jason Lezak, the veteran team captain who helped the United States (and Phelps) garner a gold with this his super-human relay anchor performance. In this segment, Greenspan interviews Lezak's college coach who dismissed the talented swimmer due to his lackluster work ethic. (In my day, we called these folks "leakers," swimmers who frequented the restroom when given hard sets.) To get back on the team, Lezak crafted and signed a contract pledging that he would train hard. He did, and in turn realized his talent by qualifying for three Olympic teams. His Olympic performances were a blend of medals and heartbreaking swims that might have discouraged a less tenacious swimmer from training for the next Games.

As we look toward London, Rio, and beyond, I hope old Olympic stories will continue to be culled for narratives that transport us to the intersection between sports, politics, humanity, and dreams. Lezak's tale conveys the courage needed to train at 110 percent for a championship, be it Olympic or summer league. His story reminds us of the humility of wanting something, and of not getting it on the first or second try, or maybe not at all. These are my favorite Bud Greenspan stories, the ones that transcend gold.


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