Jimbo Fisher is in folksy charm mode.
He’s asked about perceptions that he doesn’t have to drive more than two hours from his office to find talent, and cracks, “Miami is nine hours.”
He feigns astonishment that people make a big deal about Florida State being underdogs for the first time in more than three years and says, “We’re always an underdog to me,” which will be major news at Wake Forest.
He is caught by a media member referencing a cheat sheet of notes before remarks at a news conference, then explains with a flawless Bobby Bowden-like twang and delivery, “If you have an open-book test, why not use the open book? Dadgum. I don’t claim to be no 36 ACT now.”
Humor. From the dark side of the Force.
Florida State faces Oregon in Thursday’s Rose Bowl (old school), which serves as major college football’s first national semifinal (new school). This game has been framed as some clash between the noble people of Eugene, Ore., and the evil empire from Tallahassee, which is funny considering it wasn’t long ago when Oregon was central to a major NCAA investigation and led by felonious running backs LeGarrette Blount and LaMichael James and a quarterback, Jeremiah Masoli, who was kicked out following a string of ignoble offenses (burglary and drugs, in particular).
But the Seminoles are special, in that I’ve-never-been-to-Oregon-but-want-them-to-destroy FSU kind of way. Judging from email, social media and headlines, this Florida State team ranks as one of the most hated great teams in college football history.
They’re up/down there with the Oklahoma teams of Barry Switzer. Up/down there with the Miami teams of Jimmy Johnson and Dennis Erickson. (The legendary Bill Walsh famously referred to Miami’s level of obnoxiousness as, “The most disgusting thing ever seen in college sports.”)
FSU has all the required elements of the narrative:
The coddled quarterback (Jameis Winston) who may or may not have skated on sexual-assault allegations.
The local police department that has been systematically picked apart by the national media, particularly in a New York Times investigation, for having blinders on when it comes to the school’s star athletes.
The powerful head coach (Fisher) who doesn’t see anything wrong with the way the program or university handles things and is above reproach because he wins.
Florida State players are alternately amused and irritated by how they’re being painted.
“I guess they just don’t like good guys,” defensive end Mario Edwards, Jr. said when asked why most fans with no attachment to either school are pulling against FSU. “Maybe we’re beating some of their favorite teams, and it hurts their feelings.”
“We have good guys with good character,” defensive tackle Eddie Goldman said. “I don’t see why we have such a negative image.”
Then this punchline: “Maybe they’re all Florida fans.”
There’s no doubting Florida State’s greatness as a football program. They have won 29 consecutive games, including a BCS championship and three ACC titles. But despite going into this season as defending champions and going 14-0, they were dropped three times in the rankings (from first to fourth) before settling at No. 3 going into the playoffs.
Image plays as big a role as the fact the Seminoles have had to scramble late to win some games, creating perceptions they’re “lucky.”
“That lucky-bounce thing only goes so far,” Oregon coach Mark Helfrich said. “You don’t win 29 games in a row with luck ever. They’re just unflappable.”
Fisher loses his sense of humor, and sometimes his cool, when the image topic comes up, which has been often this week.
“We’re going to do what we do every day. And perception — we can’t help what people think of us,” he said. “We believe we have better kids than we have players. When you go to the facts and not people’s opinions and agendas we want to push, (the image) ought to change.”
Here’s the problem: The big bad media isn’t the only reason Fisher, FSU and soft local law enforcement have become symbols of everything that’s wrong with college athletics. There’s enough evidence to the contrary, even if the coach doesn’t see it that way.
Fisher said it’s all a bad rap.
“Everything in life isn’t fair,” he said.
You could almost hear the violins. But in the world of big-time college football, the cheers from wins drown it all out.
