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My History as a Seminole Fan — Part Four: 18–16

There are certain numbers that mean more to a sports fan than they probably should.

For Florida State fans of my generation, 18–16 is one of them.

By the time the 1993 season arrived, I was no longer the kid who casually watched football when I needed a break from schoolwork. I knew the players. I knew the depth chart. I knew what the Seminoles were supposed to do every Saturday.

And by then, Florida State wasn’t just a team I watched.

It was my team.

The 1993 season carried a different kind of weight. Florida State had been knocking on the door for years, and now the Seminoles entered the season ranked No. 1 and carrying the expectations that came with it.

Charlie Ward was at quarterback.

Derrick Brooks was anchoring the defense.

Warrick Dunn was just beginning to show what he would become.

And every week, I expected Florida State to win.

For the most part, they did.

The Seminoles rolled through the regular season, eventually reaching the game everyone had been waiting for: Florida State against Florida in Gainesville.

Florida State won 33–21.

They were headed to the Orange Bowl to play Nebraska for the national championship.

And that meant Charlie Ward, who had already won the Heisman Trophy, had one more game to play.

One more game to finish what this team had started.

The Orange Bowl

I wasn’t in Miami.

I was at home, watching on television.

But I was completely invested.

Florida State had been here before. Nebraska wasn’t some unfamiliar opponent. The two programs had already met in the Orange Bowl the year before, when Florida State won 27–14.

But this time was different.

This time, the winner would be the national champion.

And for much of the game, it looked like Florida State might let it slip away.

Nebraska led 7–6 at halftime.

Florida State moved ahead in the second half, but the Cornhuskers wouldn’t go away. With just over a minute remaining, Nebraska’s Lawrence Phillips scored on a 12-yard touchdown run, and the ensuing failed two-point attempt left Nebraska down 15–13.

Then Byron Bennett kicked a 27-yard field goal.

Suddenly, with 1:16 remaining, Nebraska led 16–15.

One minute and sixteen seconds.

That was all Florida State had.

Charlie Ward took the field.

And somehow, he got them moving.

The Seminoles drove into Nebraska territory, setting up Scott Bentley for a 22-yard field goal.

Twenty-two yards.

Bentley kicked it.

Good.

Florida State 18. Nebraska 16.

Twenty-one seconds remained.

Nebraska still had one chance.

The Cornhuskers drove far enough to give Bennett one final opportunity — a 45-yard field goal with the national championship hanging in the balance.

He missed.

Wide left.

And just like that, it was over.

Florida State was finally a national champion.

I wish I could tell you exactly what I did in that moment.

I can’t.

What I remember is what that number means to me.

18–16.

It wasn’t a blowout.

It wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t the kind of championship where the final minutes are spent celebrating before the clock runs out.

It was a game that came down to one final kick.

And maybe that’s part of why it has stayed with me.

When I think back to where this whole thing started, I go back to 1989.

I’m sitting high on the west side of Doak Campbell Stadium with Uncle John, leaning against a chain-link fence and looking down toward the parking lot beside the Moore Athletic Center.

I barely knew what I was watching.

I remember hearing the people around me yell, “PT!”

And I remember realizing that there was something different about this place.

Four years later, I was sitting in front of a television watching the Seminoles play for a national championship.

I knew every player.

I knew the depth chart.

I knew what was supposed to happen.

And I cared deeply about whether it happened.

It did.

Charlie Ward led Florida State to its first national championship, and the Seminoles finished the 1993 season 12–1.

For a kid who had first wandered into Doak Campbell Stadium almost by accident, it was quite a journey.

From the west side bleachers…

to the Orange Bowl…

from a casual football fan…

to a kid who knew the players, studied the games, and lived for Saturdays.

And now Florida State was on top of college football.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this wouldn’t be the last time Florida State would make me feel this way.

There would be more championships.

More great players.

More heartbreak.

More Wide Rights.

More Wide Lefts.

More games that would become permanently attached to whatever else was happening in my life at the time.

Because that’s the thing about being a fan.

You don’t just remember the games.

You remember where you were.

Who you were with.

How old you were.

What was happening in your life.

And sometimes, decades later, all it takes is a score.

18–16.

And you’re right back there again.

That’s where my story as a Seminole continued.

My View from the West Side Bleachers.