ORLANDO, Fla. — With apologies to Santa Claus and the classic Christmas crooner Andy Williams, but this is the most wonderful time of the year.
Football season is finally here!
Come on, everybody, sing along:
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
Put the mower away and grab a cold beer.
Frosty’s back in Orlando, so Knight fans can cheer.
Will the ‘Canes win the ACC — is this finally the year?!
And Napier’s Gators are rolling, and they have no fear.
What? Gus Malzahn’s at FSU? — Oh my dear!
It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
I know, I know, the heat and humidity haven’t gone anywhere. The calendar says late August, but in Florida, that doesn’t mean fall. It means football. And in this state, that word means more than a game. It’s a promise, a ritual, an unfading faith — one that comes roaring back with the first clash of high school helmets under Friday night lights and the rivalry and revelry when the big boys take the field on Saturday and Sunday.
Yes, football season is back in Florida. And with it comes the familiar rush of hope, hype, and — yes — heartbreak.
Across our Pigskin Peninsula, fans are dusting off their Tim Tebow and Dan Marino jerseys and convincing themselves — perhaps irrationally — that THIS is the year their team returns to the glory days. It’s a Sunshine State ritual, even when recent history offers little reason for optimism.
Let’s be honest: Florida’s football royalty has seen better days. The Gators, Seminoles, Hurricanes, Knights, Dolphins, Jaguars and Bucs have all had their share of frustrations in recent years. Seasons have ended with more “what ifs” than “we did its.” Coaches have come and gone, draft picks and recruiting classes have boomed and busted, and playoff dreams have evaporated faster than an afternoon thunderstorm on I-4.
But the beauty of this time of year? None of that matters. The scoreboard reads 0-0. The possibilities feel endless, and there is the eternal hope that your team can return to those glorious days of yesteryear when Bowden, Spurrier, Schnellenberger and Shula prowled the sidelines.
Even UCF had its turn in the spotlight, charging from upstart to unbeaten under Scott Frost. Now, after a rocky journey through Nebraska, Frost is back in Orlando. He returns like a prodigal son to a fan base that never stopped loving him — and never stopped wondering what could’ve been if he had stayed.
These were the golden eras when Florida football ruled the college game, when Saturdays here shaped the national championship picture. And if you close your eyes on a steamy August night, you can almost convince yourself they’re coming back.
Forget the chores, forget cleaning out the garage and pressure-washing the driveway, the drama and anticipation of mega-games await.
At UCF, the landscape has changed significantly since Frost was here in 2017. The Knights are now playing with the big boys in the Big 12. Not only that, but UCF will be hosting none other than Bill Belichick and North Carolina in Game 3. Yes, you read that right: Belichick, the NFL legend, coaching the college game and bringing his hoodie to the Bounce House. Question: Will his 25-year-old girlfriend be on the sidelines dictating which questions reporters can ask?
Meanwhile, up in Gainesville, Billy Napier’s Gators finished last season with signs of life, a surge that has fans daring to dream. There’s talk in Gainesville of a breakthrough year, but we’ll find out soon enough. Starting in Week 3, the 15th-ranked Gators travel to No. 9 LSU, then No. 10 Miami before hosting No. 1-ranked Texas at the Swamp in what could be one of the biggest home games in school history.
In Tallahassee, Seminole fans are clinging to the idea that last year’s 2-10 record was an aberration, a cruel fluke. They point to the transfer portal additions, the buzz in camp, the whispers that maybe — just maybe — this team can stun No. 8 Alabama in the season opener and remind the country that FSU football isn’t dead, it was just dormant.
Down in Miami, hope comes with an edge, as always. The Hurricanes have circled their opener against Notre Dame like a holy war. Catholics vs. Convicts, rebooted for 2025. They’ve got Florida in Week 5, too — a rivalry game that will light up the state and maybe signal that Mario Cristobal can rekindle the ‘Canes dynasty he once played for all those years ago.
College football may own Saturdays, but Sundays are just as sacred here. The Dolphins, Jaguars, and Buccaneers all enter this season thinking the same thing: We can win the division. And why not? This is the NFL, where worst-to-first happens all the time, where last year’s punchline can become this year’s playoff darling.
Miami hasn’t stopped believing in Tua Tagovailoa and that track team of wideouts. The Jaguars have a new coach in Liam Coen, an electrifying rookie in Heisman Trophy-winning Travis Hunter and are still riding high on the belief that Trevor Lawrence can be the quarterback he was supposed to be. And the Bucs? Well, they’ve got a reborn Baker Mayfield, a chance to win their division for the fifth straight season and visions of their pirate ship sailing into San Francisco Bay for this season’s Super Bowl.
Come on, everybody, it’s time to sing along again:
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
They’ll be tailgates for hosting,
Burgers and brats for roasting,
Will Tua and Tyreek get into gear!?
Can the Bucs keep soaring?
Will the Jags be roaring?
Will the playoffs appear!?
It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
Ah, football season.
Sweet football season.
Oh, how we’ve missed you.
For a few precious months, you give us something to believe in and a diversion from inflation, immigration and political polarization.
So grab a seat, dig down in that cooler and pull out a cold one.
We don’t just watch football; we need football.
You see, football in our pigskin peninsula isn’t just a sport; it’s our sanctuary from the heat, the hurricanes and the headlines.