Christian Wilkins is normally searching for a quarterback. During the on-field hysteria of Clemson’s stunning 44–16 win over Alabama in the national championship game, he needed to find the stage. He weaved through the crowd, parting the orange sea with his 6'4", 315-pound frame, ducking reporters, sliding by photographers, quickly embracing fans and still searching for that stage, the one he could see in the distance, at the other end of a confetti-covered football field. He was supposed to be on that stage, standing atop it to accept the title, to hold that oblong gold trophy. He’d earned it. He had bypassed the NFL, the last of three high-profile Clemson defensive linemen to make that decision last January, all of them—Wilkins, Clelin Ferrell and Austin Bryant—deciding to return for another year with an express purpose: standing on that stage. Now, if he could just get to it.

He bumped into former Clemson quarterback Deshaun Watson, then had a long talk with an old friend from the other side, Alabama defensive back Deionte Thompson. He ran over to quickly sing the alma mater and chant to “Tiger Rag”, Clemson’s fight song, with legions of orange-clad fans still in their seats. And then it was back to that stage. He was so close now that he could see those gesturing for him to join them. Come on Christian! What are you doing, man!? Get here now! He was almost there, just 20 yards from the payoff to all that hard work—those 5:30 a.m. workouts in the spring, the uphill running in 105° heat in the summer—when he ran smack into a waist-high barrier, one he dared not hurdle with the start of his NFL career mere months away.

Blocked from vertical movement, he slid horizontally down the guard rail, then behind a temporary set of bleachers designed for photographers, and then under yellow caution tape, where a free path to the stage existed—except for the armed security guards and police officers. They weren’t stopping Christian Wilkins and didn’t try, and so the heartbeat of this Clemson team rushed toward his prize. He climbed the stairs, stood on the stage, did a dancing jig and was so excited that he attempted to pry the microphone out of ESPN personality Rece Davis’s hands, booming a message to the nation and to those inside Levi’s Stadium: “Best. Team. Ever.”

Who is to argue? Maybe 2018 Clemson is the best team ever. They suffocated one of college football’s most explosive offenses and carved through a defense of five-star talent. They buried a Nick Saban-coached college football team in a way that hasn’t been done since Steve Spurrier and his Florida Gators whipped Saban and LSU back in the early 2000s. The offense will get the glory, racking up the final 37 points on the strength of its history-making true freshman quarterback (the first in 33 years to lead a team to a title), their sophomore running back (Travis Etienne had three total touchdowns) and their freakish receivers (freshman Justyn Ross and sophomore Tee Higgins traded nominees for catch of the night). But if this is the best team ever, it’s because it has the best defensive line ever.