NOTE: Updated after 10:40 p.m. Saturday

What you are reading might be sappy.

It might be feel-good.

It may bring a tear to your eye. Or tears to your eyes.

Actually, I don’t know how you’re going to feel. I don’t know how to title this column. I’m just going to tell you what I’ve seen this week.

I saw extraordinary. Without causing controversy, I saw it on both sides.

For the first time, football didn’t matter to me as August turned into September. But sports are blessed with extraordinary people. You’ll soon read how.

My Twitter feed was — pardon the pun — flooded with news of people who coach and play the game in Southeast Texas doing great things to help so many displaced by Harvey. Kids from neighboring schools united, under the same roof, no less.

Players took out wet carpet and drenched walls, some of them going door to door to assist. Anybody with a boat got to be someone’s hero for a little while.

Of all that’s normal about the pageantry of local sports, we’ve gotten quite a release from the divides of school pride. Community pride, though, has grown in less than a week.

We are all Southeast Texas. I am Southeast Texas. Harvey was the common opponent.

We felt Houston’s pain. Mid- and South County suffered with Beaumont and North County.

The storm has passed for some time now, but I’m still concerned. Some are displaced from home, some from family members. Some with medical needs found their needs greater.

Yeah, it’s important to know when the next football game or volleyball match is. A break from reality (or return to normalcy) is good.

It’s just no bigger deal than reality.

Life doesn’t take shape in a 100-yard by 53-foot rectangle. But we do take stock in what happens between the lines. We take greater stock in what happens beyond them.

The country now knows where Beaumont and Port Arthur are. It’s time to show what we do in the midst of chaos and confusion.

The next time thousands or so congregate in one place, we can already declare victory, and it won’t matter which team scored the most points.

Harvey didn’t beat us. It strengthened our resolve.

We can declare victory because the relationship between coach and player, player and player, and coach and coach extended beyond a green field or wooden court.

“Where is everyone?” and “What does everyone need?” became more important than “When is the next game?”

You’ll soon read how. You may already know how.

We can declare victory because Harvey forced us to keep our heads up. The testing of our faith produces steadfastness, and faith the size of a mustard seed fought against a storm that covered miles of coastland.

When the rain finally calmed, what did we really lose? Are we any less than what we were?

Many of us retreated. Some of us stayed dry. Some of us couldn’t go anywhere. Some of us lent a constant helping hand.

Some, as you will soon read, did the extraordinary in the face of extraordinary danger. We all were tested, and those who survived were all sharpened.

It’s what we sign up for when we call the Third Coast our home. And I proclaimed it visiting San Antonio and Austin this summer: I’m one of you now.

Arkansas and Tennessee run in my blood, but I am a steadfast Texan. Faith in all storms bring out the best in us.

Title this column any way you want.
•
As The News office continues to recover from Harvey, I.C. Murrell can be reached at 549-8541 or ic.murrell@panews.com. Twitter: @ICMurrellPANews