In the twilight of his remarkable career, Florida State University's iconic Bobby Bowden aspired to three things:

He wanted to decide when it was time to climb down from the tower.

He wanted no part of a sentimental ``farewell tour'' in which he would be feted at every venue.

He wanted to go out a winner, fighting for an Atlantic Coast Conference or national championship.

But Bowden's Ahab-like pursuit of the first has all but ensured he will lose the other two.

What's worse, he's tarnishing his legend and harming the program he spent most of his career building.

In the last few years, Bowden has insisted that he would inform the university when he was ready to call it quits. More recently, the 80-year-old coach has said that he would return to oversee the 2010 campaign -- and maybe more.

Here's the catch: The university must pay head-coach-in-waiting Jimbo Fisher $5 million if he doesn't take the program's reins by January 2011. And Bowden shows no signs of a willingness to leave. To Bowden, apparently, the only thing more dreaded than Georgia Tech's triple option is retirement.

Make no mistake: Fisher, the Seminoles' offensive coordinator, will be head coach in 2011.

The university does not have $5 million under the sofa cushions with which to indulge even an icon, and boosters will have no appetite for raising that kind of money -- especially given the fact they still are paying for a half-million dollar buyout to Bowden's son, Jeff, whom many blame for beginning the team's decline.

Meantime, the once-proud program founders.

Is it time to ask what once was unthinkable: Should Bowden retire from the program he put on the map? If Bowden refuses to leave, can administrators push him out without provoking a public relations nightmare? And, in the worst economic climate in decades, can boosters afford to send Bowden off with a generous severance?

Acknowledging the current troubles in no way diminishes Bowden's singular achievements: He birthed the Florida State dynasty. His 14-year run of top five finishes is unmatched. The NFL is filthy with first- and second-round draft picks recruited and trained by Bowden. His 27 -- soon to be 28 -- straight bowl appearances remain the longest active streak -- by far.

His aw-shucks charm, penchant for referring to himself in the second-person, and Boy Scout demeanor set a standard for decency in college football that remains unrivaled. Bowden not only won championships -- he developed men, such as rover Myron Rolle, who will complete his Rhodes Scholarship this winter and enter the NFL draft.

Anyone who ever read a book or tossed a Frisbee on Landis Green owes him a debt of gratitude.

KINGDOM CRUMBLES

But every new loss to a previously inferior foe, every new rumor of staff turmoil, every new recruit who chooses to look elsewhere -- like a rising tide -- destroys yet another brick of his legacy.

Dadgum it, the kingdom is crumbling, and Bowden may well be the reason why.

At 80, Bowden seldom takes the field during practice to, well, coach. He does not call plays, and rarely dons a headset during games. A recent video, available on You Tube, shows Bowden slogging through a pregame speech as his players sit on the floor, apparently bored.

Into the vacuum have plunged the Seminoles' various other head coaches -- the head coach in waiting, the executive head coach, assistant head coach and associate head coach -- creating an organizational chart that would confuse physicists -- let alone exercise science majors.