If I were playing for FSU, a tipsy stroll down Bourbon Street would be exactly
what I'd be aiming for, too. You see, this isn't exactly the best of times to
be an FSU fan, coach, player, student -- heck, even the president. In what feels
more and more like the end of an era, head coach Bobby Bowden and the Seminoles
are limping into town for the Nokia Sugar Bowl -- from that dismal six-hour
trek down I-10 -- in what may be FSU's darkest hour in years.
A second consecutive season with four losses, along with an almost guaranteed
repeat shut-out from a top-10 ranking in the polls. The starting quarterback
oversleeps and misses two final exams and is academically ineligible. His backup
(and one-time replacement) was kicked off the team last month after being arrested
on stolen-check charges. The local paper (my former employer) and everyone else
are investigating allegations of widespread gambling among players, student
trainers, team managers and other students on FSU's campus. (My favorite Bowden
quote last week in the Tallahassee Democrat: "We bring in law enforcement
people to talk to our kids -- to talk about the danger. We really hit gambling
hard because it's such a big thing with the NCAA." Right. Not because it's unethical
or anything.)
And in the fog of all this, the school hires its new president, former Florida
state House of Representatives speaker T.K. Wetherell (himself an ex-FSU football
player), who previously was the president at the local community college. The
runners-up: a former president of Ohio State University and a former Dartmouth
College provost and UCLA law professor.
Our rival, the University of Florida, has a very emphatic cheer: "It's great
... to be ... a Florida Gator!" Our cheer is more elliptical: "How 'bout them
'Noles?" Now I see why; the answer depends on the day.
When I moved here four years ago and later got all excited about FSU's national-championship
showdown with Virginia Tech in the 2000 Sugar Bowl, I was stunned to hear how
much New Orleanians hated FSU. Then came the reasons: FSU fans don't spend enough
money. Locals are tired of seeing the team's continual presence in the bowl;
this game will mark FSU's sixth appearance since 1989 and fifth in nine years.
Then there's that admittedly annoying, politically incorrect tomahawk chop and
warbling cheer that goes something like, "Heeeey, uh-HAY-uh hooaaaa, heeeey,
uh-HAY-uh hooooaaa" (repeat as needed, or ad nauseum).
Even Times-Picayune sports columnist Dave Lagarde got into the act
two weeks ago with his little joke that FSU fans bring a shirt and a $20 bill
to New Orleans -- and don't change either one during their stay. (To which,
if you wanna get personal, I say to the award-winning writer: nice haircut.)
It's getting tougher and tougher to defend my alma mater, but it wasn't always
like this. I grew up in the dark shadows of FSU's weakest era, culminating in
a 0-11 season and subsequent calls to eliminate the football program. Then came
Bobby Bowden, the Alabama miracle worker, the man who turned around FSU's fortunes
to the point that the most popular bumper sticker in town was "Hail St. Bowden."
In 20 years, FSU went from 0-11 to 12-0 and a national championship -- with
several missed opportunities thanks to rival Miami Hurricanes. We truly were
a Cinderella story.
But it seemed like the greater FSU's success, the darker its reputation. The
national media that once swooned over Bowden's folksy witticisms (his favorite
phrase: "Dad-gummit") grew weary as FSU suffered many of the growing pains of
a successful football program: suspect commitment to academics, questionable
discipline, especially for star players, and basic greed.
The bottom fell out during what was supposed to be FSU's finest hour, when
Sports Illustrated followed the Seminoles' first championship season
of 1993 with a shattering expose on how scouts for professional sports agents
had infiltrated the team. It was called the "Foot Locker" scandal when it was
reported that the agents/scouts pre-paid for players to binge on an after-hours,
gratis shopping spree at a local mall's Foot Locker store.
Years later, The New York Times ran a scathing piece on how Bowden,
a devout Southern Baptist and lay preacher, pushes the Fellowship of Christian
Athletes on his players.
And it's always seemed to be like that with FSU; even when times are supposed
to be great, something always ruins the moment. Like when FSU won its first
Sugar Bowl back in 1989; Deion Sanders, the flamboyant cornerback and kick returner,
pulled off a game-saving interception in the end zone to beat Auburn 13-7. The
only problem was, Sanders never should have been on the field, but Bowden decided
to let Sanders participate even though the player skipped all of his final exams
and was arrested a few weeks earlier for shoplifting and verbal assault
at a mall in his hometown.
Two years ago, Bowden meted out conveniently timed punishment for wide receiver-kick
returner Peter Warrick, who after himself getting arrested for participating
in a shoplifting scam at a local mall missed only three games. He returned just
in time to help FSU win that Sugar Bowl game against Virginia Tech and its second
national title. (What is it with Seminoles and malls, anyway?)
There's no mystery, really. What it all boils down to is, as a school that
was an all-women's school until 1947, Florida State suffers from the same symptoms
of every other "nouveau riche" athletic program. With little influence in the
state Legislature (dominated by University of Florida graduates), FSU for years
suffered with its weak-sister status. Essentially, FSU had to buy its success
and has felt compelled to earn that money with inconsistent regard for the circumstances.
(FSU was, in fact, one of the first athletic programs to ink a massive corporate-sponsorship
deal with Nike.)
And now, in the twilight of the 73-year-old Bowden's career, the chickens
appear to be coming home to roost. When I returned for Thanksgiving weekend,
I was met with the same "the old man's losin' it" gossip I heard as a sportswriter
nearly a decade ago. That's mainly because Bowden's counterpart in this week's
Sugar Bowl, Georgia coach Mark Richt, was a longtime Bowden assistant and FSU's
offensive coordinator until leaving after the 1999 season. The Bulldogs are
ranked fifth; FSU is No. 16.
Bowden replaced Richt not by conducting a nationwide search, but by hiring
his own son Jeff, who brought minimal coaching experience to the job. (FSU apparently
used the same approach in its presidential search.) Some FSU supporters believe
it was Richt, not Bowden, who was the brains behind FSU's offense during those
national-title runs. Now, working without a net and with a numbskull son for
an assistant, Bowden's age and cluelessness are being exposed, they argue.
Maybe so. Or maybe it's because Bowden's been working with inexperienced quarterbacks
and myriad injuries the past two seasons. All great programs have to go through
rebuilding phases at some point. What's tougher to understand -- and, as a fan,
to defend -- are the continued arrests, investigations, academic blunders and
what feels like a lack of control over the program. Because when you're living
in a town where it's already tough being a Seminole, you need all the help you
can get.
How 'bout them 'Noles? Can I get back to you on that one?
