**GOOD RIDDANCE**
The sun hung low over Doak Campbell Stadium, its golden rays casting a final glow on a season that had been anything but golden for the Florida State Seminoles. Whispers of DJ Uiagalelei’s potential had swirled like the autumn leaves when he first transferred to FSU. A five-star recruit with a cannon for an arm, he was supposed to be the missing piece—a savior who would restore the Seminoles to their rightful place atop college football.
But reality had painted a very different picture.
“Another interception!” a fan groaned during his last game in garnet and gold. It had been a season of misreads, overthrows, and squandered opportunities. The once-hopeful chants of *‘DJ! DJ!’* had long since faded, replaced by frustrated murmurs in the stands.
By the time news broke of Uiagalelei’s decision to transfer to LSU, the announcement was met not with outrage or sadness, but with a collective sigh of relief.
“Good riddance,” Coach Norvell muttered under his breath as he read the press release. He didn’t want to sound callous, but the truth was, the move would benefit everyone. DJ needed a fresh start, and FSU needed to rebuild—again.
Meanwhile, in Baton Rouge, LSU fans were ecstatic. “He’s a tiger now!” one fan exclaimed, envisioning Uiagalelei leading them to the promised land. But in Tallahassee, there was no bitterness, only a quiet resolve to move forward.
For the Seminoles, this wasn’t the end—it was a new beginning. As the locker room emptied for the season, the team’s captains rallied the younger players. “Next year is our year,” one said, his voice filled with determination.
And for DJ Uiagalelei, perhaps LSU would offer the redemption he sought. But in Florida State, his departure was simply seen as closing a chapter that had never truly been written.
Good riddance, indeed.