As a longtime observer and analyst of college football, with a particular fondness for the rhythms and traditions of the ACC, I’ve always found Florida State University’s program to be one of the most fascinating case studies in resilience and strategic evolution. This past season was no exception. It was a rollercoaster, frankly, that tested the faith of even the most ardent Seminole fan. But within that narrative, you could see the clear outlines of the key strategies that define this team’s present and future. It’s a blend of modern offensive philosophy, aggressive defensive identity, and a cultural mindset that, interestingly, was encapsulated by a phrase I heard from a player in a post-game interview after a tough early loss. He said, “Hindi naman ako nag-e-expect. Enjoy lang.” For those who don’t speak Tagalog, it translates roughly to, “I’m not really expecting. Just enjoying.” At first glance, that might sound like low ambition, but I interpreted it differently. It wasn’t about a lack of expectation for success; it was about releasing the paralyzing pressure of preseason hype and playing loose, playing for the joy of the game. That mental shift became a quiet cornerstone of their season.
Let’s talk strategy, because the X’s and O’s were a thing of beauty when they clicked. Offensively, Coordinator Alex Atkins leaned heavily into a run-pass option scheme built around quarterback Jordan Travis’s dual-threat capabilities, but the real masterstroke was the commitment to the ground game. They weren’t just running; they were imposing their will. Trey Benson emerged as a bona fide star, averaging a blistering 6.8 yards per carry on his way to over 1,130 rushing yards. That’s not just a number; that’s a statement. By establishing that dominant run game early—I’m talking first-quarter, scripted-drive dominance—they forced defenses to stack the box, which then opened up explosive play-action shots downfield to receivers like Keon Coleman. Coleman’s 11 touchdown receptions weren’t accidental; they were the direct product of a strategic hierarchy that said, “We will run until you stop us, and then we will burn you over the top.” It’s classic, physical football dressed in modern spread attire. Defensively, under Adam Fuller, the mantra was pressure and turnovers. They recorded 42 sacks as a unit, a top-10 national figure, and Jared Verse off the edge was an absolute nightmare for tackles, contributing 9 of those sacks himself. The strategy was clear: disrupt the quarterback’s timing, force hurried throws, and let a ball-hawking secondary feast. They generated 17 interceptions, turning those takeaways into short fields and quick points for the offense. This symbiotic relationship between a ball-control offense and a takeaway-hungry defense is Coaching 101, but executing it at this level is what separates good teams from great ones.
The season highlights, for me, weren’t just the wins but the moments that defined their character. The comeback against LSU in the opener set the tone—a 45-24 statement that announced they were back on the national stage. But the real test came with the injury to Jordan Travis late in the year. That could have—and in many programs, would have—derailed everything. The playoff committee certainly seemed to think so. Yet, the “next man up” mentality wasn’t just a cliché. Seeing Tate Rodemaker and then Brock Glenn step in, manage the game, and lean on that robust run game and defense was a testament to the program’s depth and culture. It harkened back to that earlier mindset: control what you can, enjoy the competition, and trust the system. Their 13-0 regular season, capturing the ACC Championship with a gritty win over Louisville, was a direct result of that trust. Was the offense as explosive with the third-string QB? No. But they adapted. They won with defense, special teams, and sheer will. The subsequent playoff snub, despite being undefeated conference champions, was a historic controversy that I believe was a profound mistake by the committee, one that undervalued conference championships and the totality of a resume. It left a bitter taste, but it also galvanized the fanbase and, I suspect, the team for what’s next.
Looking ahead, the foundation is rock-solid. The transfer portal will be key, as always, especially to replenish the receiver room and the secondary, but the core philosophy is established. Mike Norvell has built something sustainable in Tallahassee. It’s a program that blends strategic clarity with cultural toughness. They play a brand of football that is both entertaining and fundamentally sound. For fans, the takeaway should be one of immense optimism. This wasn’t a flash-in-the-pan season. It was the culmination of a deliberate build. The challenge now is navigating the new landscape of an expanded 12-team playoff, where such a snub should theoretically be impossible. My personal view? This experience, as painful as it was, will fuel them. The strategy is proven, the culture is resilient, and the highlights from this past season, from the explosive starts to the resilient finishes, are just the opening chapter of what this group is capable of. The expectation is now firmly there, but if they can hold onto that kernel of “enjoying” the grind, of playing free within the structure, Florida State football isn’t just back—it’s built to last.