Clemson is going undefeated.

Never did I ever think that statement would come out of my mouth. It seems silly, like the ramblings of a homer fan trying desperately to speak such a reality into existence.

I was born in 1989, so I missed the Danny Ford era. I missed those great teams filled to the brim with NFL talent. I missed ACC titles and major bowl appearances.

To me, Clemson football was a fun experience that attracted me to the school, but it was never a picture of greatness. It was whatever a better word for “above mediocrity” is.

Teams have been unbeaten this late in the season before, but those seasons seemed destined to fall short because of a sensation that things were hanging by a thread. Teams struggling to pile up wins found it easy to lose some close games. Other teams were simply outclassed by the opposition.

This is something new. It isn’t hard to see the difference.

A million ways exist to measure true greatness, and sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint which of them are appropriate to measure a given team. It seems reasonable to view greatness more as something experienced than something done, a quality that can only be bestowed by an outside observer.

Prior to Saturday’s historically gruesome bludgeoning of Miami, many around the country weren’t convinced. The term “playoff contender” was attached to the Tigers, but there was always the sense it was about won-loss record, not about the caliber of team. Bubbling beneath the surface, a latent skepticism existed, a distrust of the validity of Clemson’s claim to college football’s throne.

Naysayers will still point to things like schedule strength and marquee wins as a way to prop other teams up on top of Clemson. Those factors seem to exist in the eye of the beholder, so to speak, but there has to be a better way to gauge greatness.

Here’s a thought: Each week, Clemson’s opposition has presented potential problems. We in the media have been more than willing to share those issues with the public and caution against overconfidence.

None of that mattered to Clemson.

In fact, in every single game this season, whoever opposed the Tigers arguably had its worst game—at least on one side of the football.

Wofford’s option did nothing. Appalachian State has won every game by at least 18 points, except for a blowout loss to Clemson. Louisville’s offense wasn’t good at all against Auburn, but it was at least as bad—if not worse—against Clemson.

Notre Dame scored three points in three quarters and lost the line of scrimmage. Georgia Tech’s option was demolished and demoralized. Boston College’s defense gave up five games’ worth of yardage in four quarters. Miami’s passing game looked disgraceful.

One common denominator exists that binds these subpar performances together: the opponent. That amount of futile play can’t be simple coincidence, and it shouldn’t surprise anyone if the next five—six, seven, eight?—opponents suffer the same fate.

If everyone you play has its worst day against you, isn’t that the perfect picture of greatness?

Undefeated Clemson thinks so.

God Bless!

WQ