Forget the Oval, focus on Westcott

The smartest people around Ron DeSantis are doing math.

They’re calculating the odds of him ever becoming President of the United States. And they don’t love what they’re seeing.

So, they’re floating a different presidency: Florida State University.

It sounds far-fetched until you start talking to people who would know.

Multiple sources say senior advisers in DeSantis’ orbit have quietly gamed out the possibility of him landing at FSU as a high-profile power perch — instead of chasing a national comeback that looks, at least for now, like a steep climb.

Why even consider it?

Because the job itself isn’t small.

It pays well. It’s powerful. And it keeps you on a national stage in a state where higher education reform has already been central to DeSantis’ brand. Running a flagship university isn’t Washington, but it isn’t obscurity either.

And then there’s the other part of the equation: Right now, Florida State looks like a place in need of some strong leadership.

Start with the number that keeps surfacing in donor conversations: $437 million.

That’s FSU’s athletics-related debt — the highest in the country.

Four hundred thirty-seven million dollars.

Put that in Tallahassee terms. It’s roughly what the state spends in a year to fund the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. One athletics department is carrying debt comparable to a major state agency.

What makes that even harder to defend is timing. The debt ballooned during a stretch when FSU football, once the gold standard, slipped into coaching churn and uneven results. The Seminoles have won just three of their last 16 ACC games. Basketball hasn’t exactly provided cover.

Big debt hits differently when banners are hanging. When they’re not, people start asking questions.

Meanwhile, DeSantis’ hand-picked CFO, Blaise Ingoglia, is touring the state under the Florida DOGE banner, warning local governments about “waste.” That message plays well in campaign speeches until someone points out that the flagship university in the Governor’s own backyard carries the largest athletics debt load in America.

And athletics is just the most visible piece.

Federal research funding has tightened nationally. Every university feels it. But schools with steady leadership and strong political footing tend to navigate federal turbulence better than institutions already fielding internal doubts.

FSU has said it lost more than $53 million in 54 federal grants that were canceled as of May 23, 2025. POLITICO reported potential exposure of up to $65 million.

That’s not catastrophic. But it’s real money. And in higher education, pressure rarely travels alone.

Which brings us to President Richard McCullough.

His contract runs through August 2026. Board Chair Peter Collins publicly signaled an extension in November. Two Board meetings later, there’s still been no publicly posted vote.

In Tallahassee, people notice that sort of thing.

All of this is why chatter about DeSantis is growing.

In Florida, university presidencies are political. Power flows from Tallahassee. And if advisers are truly urging DeSantis to swap presidential dreams for a presidential office on Westcott Plaza, it won’t be because FSU is firing on all cylinders.

It will be because some of the people around him see an opportunity.

And in Tallahassee, opportunity rarely sits idle for long.