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From the mountaintop to the bottom: The unraveling of Florida State football

I’ve been putting off writing this article.

Not because I haven’t had anything to say. Quite the opposite. There have been plenty of moments over the last several months when I’ve started putting my thoughts together, only to decide that perhaps I should wait a little longer. Maybe things would turn around. Maybe the next Saturday would give us something worth celebrating. Maybe the program would finally find its footing again.

But if I’m being honest, I think I knew where this was headed.

Mike Norvell’s time at Florida State was coming to an end. The only real question was when.

Yesterday’s announcement that he has been relieved of his duties finally brings that chapter to a close. And while I can’t say I’m surprised, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t saddened by how we got here.

There is something particularly difficult about watching a program you love fall so far, especially when you’ve seen just how high it can climb.

For Florida State fans, the last three years have somehow managed to give us all three: the thrill of the mountaintop, the disappointment of the fall, and the frustration of watching a program struggle to find its way back.

The Mountaintop

When the 2023 season ended, I don’t think many of us could have imagined where we would be today. Mike Norvell had taken a program that had spent years trying to rediscover its identity and brought it back to national prominence. Florida State finished the regular season 13-0, won the ACC Championship, and had put together a 19-game winning streak.

And then came the College Football Playoff selection.

I still believe leaving an undefeated Power Five conference champion out of the playoff was one of the most disappointing decisions in the history of college football. The committee decided that Florida State wasn’t one of the four best teams in the country without Jordan Travis. Never mind that the Seminoles had continued to win without him. Never mind that the players who had worked all season to get there had earned that opportunity.

They were told it wasn’t enough.

The Orange Bowl followed, and what should have been a celebration of an extraordinary season became something else entirely. With so many players opting out of playing a bowl game that didn’t have championship implications, Florida State lost to Georgia 63-3.

It was an ugly ending to a remarkable season. But I don’t think any of us believed it was the beginning of the end.

In fact, I suspect most of us believed the opposite.

We had finally arrived. The program was back. The recruiting momentum was there. The culture seemed to be where it needed to be. We had a coach who appeared to understand what Florida State meant, not just as a football program, but as a tradition.

There was reason to believe the best was still ahead.

The Fall

Then came 2024.

I don’t know that there is a way to adequately describe the disappointment of that season. A team that had finished 13-0 in the regular season the year before finished 2-10. The Seminoles went from an ACC championship to one conference victory. The energy, confidence, and identity that had seemed so evident just months earlier were suddenly difficult to recognize.

We told ourselves it was an anomaly. A bad season. A perfect storm of personnel losses, injuries, and roster turnover. Surely, with the right adjustments, Florida State could get back on track.

And then 2025 opened with a reminder of what we thought this program could be.

A 31-17 win over Alabama. Not just a win, but a convincing performance against a nationally respected opponent. For a moment, it felt like the Seminoles had turned a corner.

But that feeling didn’t last.

Florida State finished 5-7, losing seven of its final nine games. Another season without a bowl appearance. Another year of trying to explain what had gone wrong.

The administration elected to retain Norvell, announcing that fundamental changes would be made to address the program’s deficiencies. There was still an opportunity to turn things around, but the margin for error had become awfully thin.

And now here we are.

The 2026 season has brought more of the same. A 3-5 record. More conference losses. More questions than answers. And Saturday night’s 36-24 loss to Clemson at Doak Campbell Stadium proved to be the final chapter of the Mike Norvell era.

Today, Florida State announced that Norvell had been relieved of his duties.

His seven seasons in Tallahassee ended with a 41-39 record.

That’s a strange number to attach to a coach who once had this program riding a 19-game winning streak and standing undefeated atop the ACC. It’s also a reminder that success in college football is rarely measured by what you accomplished two or three years ago. Eventually, you have to produce again.

And Florida State didn’t.

The People Behind the Program

But I think there is something worth considering beyond the win-loss record.

I have never believed that a football coach should be judged solely by whether he is a good person. Norvell’s commitment, his family, and his personal character deserve to be treated with respect. But those things cannot substitute for the responsibility of leading a program with the expectations and resources of Florida State.

The same is true of the people around the program.

One of the things that makes these decisions difficult is that football isn’t just a business to those of us who follow it. We develop relationships with people. We see their families. We interact with coaches away from the field. We remember the kindnesses that have absolutely nothing to do with a Saturday afternoon.

Earlier this year, Liz and I stopped for breakfast before visiting Isaac’s cemetery. It was one of those days that carries a weight that is difficult to explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced it. Coach White’s children saw us and waved, and we exchanged a brief greeting. Without knowing anything about where we were headed or why that particular day mattered, Coach White paid our breakfast check.

I later had the opportunity to thank him and explain just how much that simple gesture meant to us.

I haven’t forgotten it.

That has nothing to do with a win-loss record, and it certainly doesn’t change the realities of college football. But it reminds me that there are good people behind these programs, people whose families and lives extend far beyond the sidelines. I can believe changes were necessary while still feeling genuine sadness for the people affected by them.

Both things can be true.

And that’s probably where I find myself today.

Turning the Page

I’m disappointed in what has happened to Florida State football. I’m disappointed that the momentum built over several years was squandered. I’m disappointed that a program with so much history, tradition, and support has spent the better part of three seasons looking for answers.

But I’m also ready for a new beginning.

I don’t envy the person who takes this job. Florida State isn’t simply looking for someone who can win football games. We need someone who understands the expectations of this university, the history of this program, and the responsibility that comes with wearing that garnet and gold.

We need more than a good introductory press conference. We need more than promises about returning to greatness. We need a program built on substance, accountability, discipline, and a commitment to excellence that extends beyond the next recruiting cycle.

And we need leadership that understands that the standard at Florida State isn’t something we should have to keep explaining.

I’ve been watching this program from the west side bleachers since 1989. I’ve watched the rise, the championships, the heartbreaks, the rebuilding years, and the moments that reminded us why we keep coming back.

I’ve watched Bobby Bowden build something special. I’ve watched the program reach the mountaintop and then struggle to find its footing again. I’ve celebrated seasons that I never thought could be topped, and I’ve endured seasons I’d just as soon forget.

I suppose that’s what being a fan is.

You don’t get to choose only the good years. You don’t get to walk away every time things go wrong. And you certainly don’t get to claim the victories while pretending the disappointments never happened.

I don’t know who the next coach will be. I don’t know how long it will take to get Florida State back where we believe it belongs.

But I know I’ll be watching.

Because the west side bleachers have never been about who happens to be standing on the sidelines. They’ve always been about a love for Florida State that began long before this particular coaching era and, Lord willing, will continue long after it.

Here’s to turning the page. And here’s to finding our way home again.