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My History as a Seminole Fan — Part Five: The Choke at Doak

There is something strange about losing someone you’ve gotten used to seeing every Saturday.

Charlie Ward was gone.

After leading Florida State to its first national championship and winning the Heisman Trophy, Ward’s football career took an unusual turn. The NFL passed on him in the 1994 draft, and he eventually found his way into the NBA, where the New York Knicks selected him with the 26th pick.

As a Florida State fan, I was proud of him.

As a Knicks fan, I was pretty excited, too.

But selfishly, I wanted him back in Tallahassee.

He had been the quarterback who finally got us over the top.

Now Danny Kanell was taking over.

And Florida State was going to have to prove that the championship wasn’t just the culmination of one great team.

Could they do it again?

At that point, I had no reason to think they couldn’t.

The Seminoles were loaded.

Warrick Dunn was becoming a star. The defense was still full of players who could make plays all over the field. The machine that Bobby Bowden had built wasn’t going anywhere.

And Danny Kanell was good.

Really good.

He wasn’t Charlie Ward, and I don’t think anyone expected him to be.

But he didn’t have to be.

He just had to be Danny Kanell.

Florida State opened the season ranked No. 4 and won its first four games before traveling to Miami.

That one didn’t go according to plan.

Miami beat Florida State 34–20, handing the Seminoles their first regular-season loss in two years.

But the season wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Florida State kept winning.

By the time Florida came to Tallahassee on November 26, the Seminoles were 9–1 and ranked No. 7.

Florida was No. 4.

And I wasn’t sitting at home watching this one.

I was at a youth group event at the home of one of the kids in our church.

Most of the teenagers were outside.

They were playing games, throwing around a ball, doing the kinds of things teenagers do at a youth group gathering.

But I wasn’t outside.

Neither was my youth pastor, Alan Risk, who we affectionately called “Coach”, because he also the football team at our high school.

Coach was a Florida State alumnus and had actually played football there during those early years after Bobby Bowden took over the program. So if there was anybody in that room who understood what Florida State football meant, it was Coach.

We sat in the living room watching the game.

And for a while, there wasn’t much to enjoy.

Florida was dominating.

The Gators built a 31–3 lead, and Florida State looked completely incapable of putting together any kind of answer.

There were also a select few kids in our youth group who were Florida Gator fans.

And a few who were Miami Hurricane fans.

You can imagine how much fun they were having.

Every Florida score made their afternoon a little better.

Every Florida State possession that went nowhere gave them another reason to celebrate.

And honestly, I can’t blame them.

At that point, Florida was absolutely destroying us.

Coach and I just sat there watching.

The kids were outside.

The Gator fans were having the time of their lives.

The Miami fans were enjoying the suffering of their rival.

And Florida State couldn’t score.

Then it happened.

The Choke at Doak

I don’t remember Coach saying anything.

I don’t remember some great speech.

I don’t remember exactly what we said to each other.

I just remember that suddenly Florida State started moving the football.

Zack Crockett scored on a five-yard touchdown run.

Then Danny Kanell found Andre Cooper for another touchdown.

Then Kanell ran one in himself.

And just like that, the score was 31–24.

Florida had gone from being completely in control to suddenly having a football game on its hands.

The kids who had been laughing about Florida State were paying attention now.

Then James Colzie intercepted Danny Wuerffel.

Florida State had the ball again.

Kanell hit Warrick Dunn for a huge 37-yard gain.

Rock Preston finished the drive with a four-yard touchdown run.

31–30.

Now there was no joking.

No more laughing.

No more enjoying the Florida State misery.

The game had changed.

Florida State kicked the extra point.

31–31.

A twenty-eight-point deficit had disappeared in one quarter.

Twenty-eight points.

One quarter.

Florida State had tied the No. 4 team in the country after trailing 31–3 entering the fourth quarter. The comeback set an NCAA record for the largest fourth-quarter comeback at the time.

And I was sitting in a living room with my youth pastor while a bunch of teenagers who had been outside playing games suddenly had a reason to come inside and see what was happening.

The Gator fans weren’t laughing anymore.

The Hurricane fans weren’t laughing anymore.

Nobody was.

It was just football.

And somehow, Florida State had pulled itself back from the dead.

It wasn’t a win.

That’s the funny thing about the Choke at Doak.

It was a tie.

31–31.

Florida State didn’t win the game.

But it felt like a win.

Maybe that’s because of what had happened during those final minutes.

Maybe it was because Florida had spent three quarters looking like the better team and then watched a 28-point lead disappear.

Or maybe it was because, as a Florida State fan, I had just watched my team refuse to quit.

Florida State would not win another national championship that season.

But the Seminoles went undefeated in the ACC, finished the regular season 10–1–1, and beat Florida again in the Sugar Bowl, called “The Fifth Quarter in the French Quarter”, 23–17. They finished the season ranked No. 4.

Danny Kanell had also established himself as more than simply the guy replacing Charlie Ward. He was now the quarterback of this next chapter of Florida State football.

And for me, something else had changed.

I was beginning to understand that my memories of Florida State weren’t going to be confined to Doak Campbell Stadium.

They were going to happen wherever I happened to be.

In a living room at a youth group event.

With my youth pastor sitting beside me.

With kids outside throwing a football around.

With Gator and Hurricane fans enjoying every miserable minute.

And then, suddenly, with all of us paying attention.

That’s what being a fan does.

The games become attached to your life.

You don’t just remember the score.

You remember where you were.

Who was sitting beside you.

Who was rooting against you.

What else was happening around you.

And sometimes, you remember the exact moment when a game that looked completely over suddenly wasn’t.

For me, that moment came in a living room full of teenagers who weren’t even watching the game.

Until they had a reason to.

Florida State had trailed 31–3.

And then it happened.

The Choke at Doak.

And I was still watching.