A football dynasty peaking has a sound, or at least one football dynasty did. Jacquez Green, running one of five well-plotted and endlessly rehearsed curlicue routes in Steve Spurrier's offense, went up for a ball in the 1996 Fiesta Bowl and met the shoulder, rib cage, and transferred blunt force of a Nebraska defender. He also simultaneously met years of planning, tireless recruiting, program architecture, football instruction, player development, and practice. That is the metaphorical point here, but so is the horrendous impact, and the resulting noise of Green screaming as his hip was knocked out of socket as he hit the luridly green Arizona turf.
When a team decimates you that badly, the scoreboard is no longer really a concern. Did they kill 20,000 or 30,000 men? Did Tommie Frazier break one, two, or seventy tackles? (The conservative real number is seven.) Domination has its own laws of diminishing returns. Imperial Nebraska beat people by forty, which is not different from beating someone by fifty, or by thirty or sixty. You were not defeated so much as reduced to a nullity, prey, or cud chewed between unceasing teeth.
You died by halftime. Shock and a loss of consciousness followed.
From 1993 to 1997 Nebraska ripped an unholy swath through college football. They won 60 games and two national titles.* One of those losses came in the national title game in 1993. The other two came against Texas in the Big 12 Championship game in 1996, a game decided on a single 4th and short call for the ages, and against Arizona State on the road in a game of singular weirdness. I am not looking these up as I write them. If you can cite the losses of a program in detail without looking at a reference sheet, this alone is a fearsome testament to their power over a given timespan.