FSU as College Football’s Villain: An Origin Story
By David Visser
Examining the factors that contributed to the current perception of FSU as College Football’s Villain.
Given the coverage of the previous week – or month – or really this entire season – it’s become readily apparent that the national media is perfectly content to couch Florida State as the villain of the college football landscape. Of course, this is primarily due to alleged incidents surrounding star quarterback Jameis Winston, the most serious of which remain unproven and/or unfounded entirely.
But this role is not a new one for the Seminoles. Since their ascension to national powerhouse decades ago, it’s difficult to recall a time when the ‘Noles were deemed anything approaching “media darlings.”
But why is this? How does a program continually draw aspersions? If we look back through the manner by which Florida State rose to prominence, its consistency, and the significance of the “F” in FSU, the Seminoles’ road to infamy becomes clearer.
A Changing of the Guard
Legendary FSU coach Bobby Bowden built the Seminoles into a contender the hard way. He went on the road and played the nation’s top teams, often with inferior players, and frequently accruing losses, in an effort to increase Florida State’s national exposure. To wit: in Bobby Bowden’s first undefeated regular season, 1979, FSU played just four games at Doak Campbell Stadium in assembling a 11-0 record.
This earned the program respect, which increased its attractiveness to a new level of talent in a talent-rich state. Before long, those programs had no choice but to come to Tallahassee, as the Seminoles had amassed enough clout to take their seat at the table of the national elite.
After Florida State struggled for years to emerge from the shadow of in-state rivals like Miami and Florida (primarily the former), the ‘Noles finally reached the zenith in 1993, when they won their first national championship. It wasn’t easy. The ‘Canes cast the mold that the Seminoles would eventually shatter, and were demonized throughout their own impressive rise that saw them claim three national titles in the 80s.
Like Miami, FSU challenged the status quo of college football. Before its high-octane, explosive brand of ball that wisely integrated the impressive athleticism of its players, the norm had been honorable drudgery. Oklahoma’s time-proven wishbone. Nebraska’s triple option, which harkened back to the early-century dominance of the service academies. The Ohio State vs. Michigan rivalry that placed an emphasis on ground-and-pound “manly” football.
It’s no coincidence that these were the iconic football staples on which many now in control of dictating national narratives cut their teeth. Think about it: generationally speaking, those currently in real positions of power, regarding the national spotlight, were baptized in the notion that college football genius emanated from icons like Woody Hayes and Bo Schembechler.
When Florida State began regularly putting up scores in the 50s – by throwing the ball over, and running the ball around – these teams, they naturally took it as a threat. But not before dismissing it first. FSU, they said, wouldn’t be so flashy once it was hit in the mouth by the scarred right fist of a corn-fed “real” football player. It was an understandable justification: after all, if they were wrong, then wasn’t their expertise concerning the game based on a myth?
Yes. Yes it was. And FSU exposed that myth. Florida State essentially told guys like Matt Millen (Penn State class of 1980) that there is no Santa Claus.
The bulk of what was rapidly becoming “old-school football” (a term, you’ll notice, still used as an endearing compliment by those of this era) simply – and literally – couldn’t keep up. And history shows it. One of the central tenets of an iconoclast, after all, is that its brilliance is rarely recognized – and often rebuffed – in its time.
But history, as it is wont to do, always speaks much louder than antiquated opinions.
An Era of Extended Dominance
It wasn’t just that FSU got good. After all, lots of teams ascend to relevance, take a few runs at a title, and then regress back into the pack. But the ‘Noles stayed good — really good — and they did so for a long time.
One of the greatest ways of measuring a team’s relative success has always been bowl performance. After all, bowl match-ups purport to line up two teams of somewhat similar success and talent. Well, from 1985 to 1996, Florida State won 11 consecutive bowl games.
Those triumphs included Ws over established powerhouse Penn State, the historically proven Notre Dame, and four – four – victories over the aforementioned Nebraska, including, of course, the 1993 national championship.
These wins were in marquee bowls too, proven by the fact that for a 14-year period (from 1987-2000), FSU finished in the top four in the AP Poll every single year. In none of those years did the ‘Noles finish with more than two losses. The span featured more poundings of previous standard bearers.
In 1991, the ‘Noles were supposed to be taught a lesson when they visited Ann Arbor. The result? A 51-31 Florida State throttling of the Wolverines. In 1997, the Buckeyes were going the show the ‘Noles a thing about “real” football. The Seminoles rolled, 31-14.
Some took these losses better than others. After a notable win at Nebraska at the onset of the FSU dynasty, Husker fans gave the ‘Noles a standing ovation after their win, a sportsmanlike acknowledgement of a game well played. But for every tip of the cap, there seemed to be a Rudy.
Sure it was just a movie. But let’s look closer at the nerve the film touched, for many, when it was released. Rudy came out in 1993, the same year Florida State finally reached college football’s pinnacle. But what was the film really about? An under-talented, scrappy lineman who overcame the odds and relatively succeeded, despite the overwhelmingly odds stacked against him.
Rudy was nostalgia erotica. Talent-gap porn. It was the dying salvo of a game that time had passed by, of a time when toughness, grit, and desire could keep up, before everyone had gotten so much bigger, stronger, faster. Before FSU.
Which brings us back to the emerging power that was the Seminoles. During these unprecedented streaks, a Florida State down year became a season in which it did not play for the national title. While others toiled and rebuilt, Florida State reloaded. Time and again, FSU upset previously held beliefs about what football was supposed to look like: Rudy. Even in the relatively down period of the “lost decade,” the ‘Noles maintained winning records and continued to appear in bowls.
Which is another reason fans of other teams resent FSU. Florida State’s lows simply aren’t that low. There’s no loss to Appalachian State or Georgia Southern. No 4-8.
As it often does, the Seminoles’ success sowed seeds of discontent from those looking for one year, one shot—suddenly there was a team down south that put itself in position to get that opportunity, year in and year out.
That Team Down South: Why Geography (and Perception) Matter
It goes without saying that college football had seen plenty of southern powerhouses prior to the likes of Miami and Florida State. But not many northerners pack up the family station wagon and set a course for the idyllic shores of Tuscaloosa. But Florida? In the minds of many from other parts of the country, Florida is a magical place of never-ending vacation and ease.
As someone born and raised in Michigan, I can attest to this. Conceiving of someone living a normal life in the Sunshine State was nearly impossible. When that heralded annual vacation finally came, heading to Florida meant achieving the paradise unrealized in everyday life.
Driving down meant frantically scanning to see who could spot the first palm tree, and then rolling down the windows to take in the warm air. On the rare occasions that we flew down, I marveled at the number of swimming pools behind ordinary houses, present because they saw use more than three months a year.
It was difficult to imagine the reality that anyone did anything down here other than alternate between beaches and amusement parks. I was a child, sure, but even now, I’ve found that my family – which still lives in the same small Michigan town in which I was raised – has, occasionally, to be reminded that it’s not all just boat drinks and cocoa butter.
Of course, anyone with a map can observe that Tallahassee is not coastal, and doesn’t afford any beachfront views, much less the tropical lifestyle characterized by more southern climes.
But it doesn’t matter. If you’re in Minnesota, or Iowa, or Pennsylvania – or most other states in the country – Florida is a destination, a place you may work all year in the hopes of travelling to for a week. Shots of the sun-drenched Seminole student section, of bronzed arms doing the tomahawk chop, simply reinforce the notion in the minds of many that ours is a state of leisure, and that a tough-nosed game like football is somehow more earned by those who sludge through the snow.
A Convergence of Factors
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Simply put, the speed, the sun – the fun – all of these flew in the face of the college football status quo, then as they are now. Winston’s carefree smile seems to be taken by many as a mockery of the grind they believe football is—or should be. He and this Seminoles team have shown the ability to continually succeed, when others have to bide their time, and wait, and take their lumps—often at the hands of Florida State.
And what really horrifies many, given the program Jimbo Fisher has built and the manner by which his recruiting continually refurbishes FSU’s talent, is that they appear primed on the precipice of another extended era of domination.