Mike Bianchi: In blowout loss to Louisville, FSU’s Mike Norvell may have outsmarted his way out of a job

Sometimes, one play call changes a game.

And sometimes, it changes a coaching career.

Mike Norvell may have accomplished all three Friday night in Louisville, Ky.

One inexplicable decision. One disastrous swing pass. One historic touchdown run. And perhaps the moment Florida State's embattled football coach officially became a dead man walking.

The final score was Louisville 44, Florida State 20. But the play that may ultimately define Norvell's tenure came when the Seminoles were leading 14-0, dominating the line of scrimmage and threatening to turn this into a blowout of their own.

Florida State had fourth-and-goal at Louisville's 2-yard line.

They had been running the football down Louisville's throat. Quarterback Ashton Daniels had rushed for a school-record five touchdowns the previous week against Virginia. Florida State had piled up nearly 300 rushing yards in that victory.

Smash-mouth football was becoming this team's identity. Finally, something was working.

Instead of putting the ball in Daniels' hands on a run-pass option, instead of challenging Louisville's defense to stop the very thing it hadn't been stopping, Norvell called a little swing pass to true freshman Jasen Lopez.

And, quite possibly, Norvell lost his job.

Because on Louisville's very next offensive snap, Isaac Brown took a handoff and exploded 97 yards for a touchdown.

Just like that, what could have been a commanding 21-0 Florida State lead became 14-7.

A potential knockout punch became an invitation to get off the canvas.

The Cardinals scored 35 unanswered points, transforming what had looked like Florida State's most encouraging performance of the season into another humiliating collapse.

Brown's touchdown was the longest rushing score in college football this season and the longest play from scrimmage ever surrendered by Florida State's defense.

A program once synonymous with speed, intimidation and defensive dominance just surrendered a 97-yard touchdown run that belongs in its record books for all the wrong reasons.

And Brown wasn't finished. He rushed for 235 yards on just 17 carries, including another 68-yard touchdown. Louisville amassed 397 rushing yards, averaging an obscene 9.2 yards per carry.

Brown didn't merely outrun Florida State's defenders. He made them look like traffic cones scattered along a highway, useful only for marking the route to the end zone.

And it started with a coaching decision that defied common sense.

Remember Pete Carroll's infamous Super Bowl blunder? Seattle had the ball at New England's 1-yard line, with Marshawn "Beast Mode" Lynch available to finish the job. Instead, Carroll called a pass that Malcolm Butler intercepted.

A championship opportunity vanished because a coach apparently decided the obvious play wasn't clever enough.

Norvell's decision wasn't made with a Super Bowl championship at stake.

It might have been made with his livelihood at stake.

To be clear, one fourth-down failure didn't cause Louisville to rush for nearly 400 yards. Nor did it excuse Florida State's inability to respond when adversity arrived.

But that's precisely the larger indictment of Norvell. His team couldn't recover.

Good teams absorb bad breaks. Well-coached teams maintain their composure. Teams with strong leadership don't allow one failed offensive play to trigger a complete unraveling.

And this wasn't some isolated road-game nightmare. The Seminoles have now lost 13 consecutive road games.

Winning away from home requires discipline, toughness, preparation and leadership. It requires a team capable of handling momentum swings without disintegrating.

Florida State has demonstrated precious little of that. Which brings us back to Norvell and the cruel reality of coaching on borrowed time.

Just one week earlier, Florida State's domination of Virginia offered a glimmer of hope. Maybe Norvell had finally found an offensive identity. Maybe Daniels' running ability could rescue a season drifting toward irrelevance.

Maybe, just maybe, Norvell could save himself.

Now Florida State is 3-3, with a trip to No. 4 Miami looming. Another blowout would leave the Seminoles at 3-4 and Norvell needing something approaching a miracle finish to preserve his job.

His reported $49 million buyout complicates everything. Florida State's administrators would undoubtedly prefer a resurgence to writing that enormous check. But an increasingly furious fan base doesn't care about contractual complications. It wants results.

And Norvell keeps giving those fans more ammunition.

That's what happens when a coach has exhausted his margin for error. Every loss becomes an indictment. Every questionable decision becomes evidence. Every game becomes a referendum on whether he deserves another one.

Friday night, Florida State had an opportunity to build momentum, establish credibility in the ACC and prove that last week's breakthrough wasn't a mirage.

Instead, the Seminoles squandered a 14-point lead, surrendered a historic touchdown and watched their season veer toward another familiar disaster.

A football season doesn't usually unravel on one play. A coaching career doesn't usually end with one decision.

But sometimes, one moment tells you everything you need to know about a coach and the direction of his program.

Friday night, Florida State had a chance to change the trajectory of its season. Mike Norvell needed just two yards to take a commanding 21-0 lead.

Instead of trusting the running game that had been bulldozing Louisville, he tried to outsmart everybody.

And may have outsmarted himself right out of a job.

Forget the old football adage, "Three yards and a cloud of dust."

For Mike Norvell, this may very well go down as two yards and a cloud of doom.