There is much pearl-clutching now over the fact that college football is undergoing changes, so many of them unwelcome in our fans’ eyes. But college football has always been changing. It is unsettling when changes are sudden and dramatic.

We don’t have to like the changes. We just have to decide who we are. Bumbling Goliaths don’t remain intact very long.

On a Thursday night in October, I watched East Carolina play Tulsa on ESPN. Both teams were exuberant and full of fight. Winning seemed urgent to them. Fans were highly entertained by wearing the colors and sharing the comradeship.

Neither East Carolina nor Tulsa have ever been described as a Goliath, nor are they ever likely to be. They enjoy being Pirates and Golden Hurricanes and they are happy where they are.

The great majority of NCAA Division I schools and their fans are at ease with the facts, and accept that their programs can never become Goliaths. There is simply no pathway for them, due variously to geography, or population, history or capacity. They enjoy the sport and the emotional infrastructure it provides for supporters of the institution. Despite what some would have you believe, enormous sums of financial support for academics first enter through the locker-room doors.

If we were to feel burdened by being characterized as a Goliath, we Seminoles can always go back to playing the teams from the old Metro Conference (1975-1991). When the Metro lobbied hard to become an NCAA football league, Bobby Bowden handed those overtures a cold dismissal. Bowden believed Florida State could become a national brand. He knew his program stood at a unique crossroad of talent, ambition and opportunity.

Goliath is a term sometimes used to describe the likes of Ohio State, Michigan, Notre Dame, Alabama, Oklahoma and a few more.

For a good length of time, Florida State was also described as a Goliath, and correctly so. So was Florida, and so was Miami. All three programs took advantage of Florida’s exploding population, mild weather and football fanaticism.

But of course, the landscape of the sport changes. It’s always changing. For example, until around 1970 the traditional Goliath used to be white. That changed, and very quickly. Any grumbling from the fans quieted as soon as their favorite schools’ wins began to mount and their rivals were humbled.

Another remarkable change has been the rise of sports agents. Agents, who used to be anathema in Athletic Director suites and locker rooms, are now welcomed as Mr. Drysdale welcomed the Clampetts. Coaches, and now players, are prized commodities to be traded.

In the 2013 Rose Bowl national championship game, agent Jimmy Sexton represented both Jimbo Fisher and Auburn’s Gus Malthzan. The agent dressed his family in neutral colors for the game so as to remain impartial. His investments were safe either way.

Basketball school Indiana University just signed football Coach Curt Cignetti to a $93 million contract. Cignetti is famous for his comment when asked earlier why he deserved such a princely deal. He said, “I win. Google me.”

In 1976, FSU President Stanley Marshall appeared before the Florida Board of Regents seeking permission to pay new Head Coach Bobby Bowden the same $36,700 annual salary as Gator Coach Doug Dickey. Marshall recognized the symbolic importance of equity between the two programs. Marshall could never have imagined a $100 million college football coach. Or a Lamborghini-wrangling freshman college quarterback.

Expect lawsuits to be filed by, say, a 95-pound young female Cross-Country athlete who’s wondering when she can expect to receive her money, and can you just deal directly with my agent because I’m, you know, really busy.

And who can blame her? When there’s money on the table, every eligible recipient is going to want their share. We just have to decide what business we’re in.

We’re not being asked to like these changes. The changes don’t care. We just have to decide if we want to be a healthy Goliath again. We have to decide if we’re willing to meet the requirements to be Goliath at all.

Changes arrive very quickly.

To us older fans, the timelines seem contracted. Today’s undergraduates think of Christmas, 2024 as a long time ago. But you and I remember 40+ years ago as if it was yesterday’s lunch at the Sweet Shop or the Phryst.

The size of individual players has increased exponentially. We remember when Sports Illustrated pointed out that 6’ 1” 230-pound Kelly Lowrey was possibly the largest quarterback in Division I that season.

We remember in the early 1980s when the Gators signed a freshman lineman named Jeff Zimmerman who weighed 305 pounds. It was such a rarity that an Orlando Sentinel sportswriter seemed astonished to learn that Zimmerman actually played tennis.

Fast forward now to a few weeks ago when it amused Alabama quarterback Ty Simpson to throw a screen pass to the nearly 400-pound behemoth Kayden Proctor who then walked ten yards to the two-yard-line. Defenders were no more a threat to him than dogs barking at a freight train.

The Biblical Goliath is a character of some mystery. Historical accounts say attending soldiers “guided him down the steep terrain” to the plain where he would battle the shepherd. If Goliath of three millennia ago really was a giant more than nine feet tall, he was probably already beset by poor vision, unsteady balance and other physical disorders.

Just the looming image of a fully armed and armored Goliath must have terrified opponents. Simply standing still might have been his most compelling advantage. He was likely not mobile for a big man, could not see well enough to properly assess the young boy holding a pouch of stones. And Goliath had likely been assured (by his agent?) that this contest would be an easy win.

But for a moment let’s assume a different Goliath, a younger one, less burdened by internal maladies. Let’s imagine a Goliath whose vision was clear and limbs were strong. Let’s say he was an experienced warrior, not given to “bumbling”. He was smart enough not to overlook his lower-ranked opponent, the youth with the sling and the pouch of stones.

Had he been a true Goliath in the way we think of that description today, he might have made quick work of the shepherd and the history of the Israelites might have turned out differently.

Today’s college football’s Goliaths stride the landscape with confidence. They’re know they’re going to the playoffs, and every decision they make is predicated on that goal. Whenever they find themselves “bumbling”, they make corrections. Their vision is clear. If vision needs improvement or limbs need strengthening, they see to it.

I believe in this particular FSU hierarchy, from the current University President down through the Athletic Director and the Seminole Boosters’ CEO. I believe they are in agreement with the passions and ambitions of our fans.

We’re not being asked to like these changes. The changes do not care what we think. We’re only being asked to decide who and what we want Florida State to be, and what we’re willing to do to achieve that end.

The hard truth for us Seminoles is that a “bumbling” Goliath does not remain a Goliath for very long. Our fans want FSU to rise up and become healthy again. The journey back is not easy.

Modern day college football Goliaths do their best to make wise decisions on coaching, recruiting, facilities, support, scholarships, and all the other complex trappings of the sport.

Sometimes those decisions misfire. It happens. The measure of success is how long it takes to recover.

But one thing that administrators and alumni leaders of the Goliath never do is look backward. They never doubt their pedigree. They don’t fret about whether being a Goliath is the proper role for their program. There is no hesitation about moving forward. They know who they are and there is no question of retreat.

We Seminoles were once Goliath. We certainly earned that standing, with three National Championships and three Heisman Trophy winners in a two-decade span.

It’s nice to know the Wall Street Journal thinks enough of us to call us Goliath, even with the unflattering modifier.

There is no going back. Our destiny is to reclaim the unblemished title of Goliath.