Wide Right Again

October is a very traditional month for me: I celebrate my birthday; I decorate for Halloween; when I was in high school and college I would frequently work on the homecoming festivities, and I watch the annual FSU/Miami game.  This is probably my favorite rivalry: the field goal misses, the trash talking, Bobby Bowden looking frequently bewildered; it’s the whole package.  I know that Florida/Florida State is actually a “bigger” series, but I hate the Gators and the jorts they rode in on.  The Hurricanes are a team I somewhat respect, until they force us into a field goal situation we can’t possibly win and then desicrate our Seminole head on the 50 yard line.

Can I just say that I don’t know if I should be depressed or mildly amused by the fact that “Wide Right” actually has its own Wikipedia entry.  I’m also somewhat surprised that the whole Wide Right (or Left) stigma hasn’t forced the Seminoles to actively recruit qualified kickers over the years (Janikowski notwithstanding).  Sure, the Noles can block a field goal; it’s the kicking it that’s the hard part.

Indulge me for a moment as I share with you one of my favorite memories of this rivalry (if you need to, just picture me as Burt Reynolds, slumped on the couch of his Jupiter home during The Bobby Bowden show every Sunday morning on The Sunshine Network),  When I was little, my dad took my younger brothers to a birthday party at a local beach hotel.  While my brothers played beach volleyball with their friends, my dad and I watched the game inside the hotel at the sports bar.  Even then I knew a lot about football (and about sports betting).  Since I didn’t have any money to speak of, I bet my dad two Cookies and Cream flavored Twix candy bars that the Seminoles would miss the field goal (just call me Pete Rose).  Let’s just say that my dad took that bet and I feasted on cookies and cream that evening.  But my bet winning wasn’t even the best part; it was Bobby running out onto the field in a tight sweater, thrilled to have just won the game…and then realizes that the kick was bad.  Look I love the Noles, but that moment never manages to crack me up.  It was the dadgummit heard round the world. Maybe I’m a bad fan; but I just like to think I’m a good judge of unintentional comedy.

Speaking of which, how funny is it that all the announcers refer to Jimbo Fisher as “Coach in Waiting” now?  The whole thing makes me think that Jimbo is actually the Prince Charles of the Seminoles Coaching Staff to Bobby’s Queen Elizabeth with his jumbo championship rings and frequent hat changes.  I guess that makes Mickey Prince Phillip since he has no shot at the head coaching job but has had Bobby’s back forever. (Also he’s very gruff.)  Chuck Amato can be Prince Andrew since he went out on his own for a while but returned and seems to have been welcomed back in the fold.  Mark Richt is Fergie; mixing it up with everyone and then bailing out for more lucrative opportunities.  Ponder and Richardson can be Princes Wills and Harry while poor Drew Weatherford has to settle being one of Princess Anne’s children that not even the tabloids care about.

Here’s what I expect to see on Saturday: Turnovers, big defensive plays, actual field goals, Sebastian the Ibis dancing around like a lunatic, “die hard” Miami fans (yet none of them ever matriculated there) and Billy, Bobby’s Trooper, trying to squeeze into the camera frame during the post game hand shake.

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