As a lifelong fan and someone who’s spent years analyzing the game from the bleachers to the broadcast booth, I’m often asked the same question: who is the best American football team? It’s a deceptively simple query that opens up a world of debate, statistics, and pure, unadulterated passion. The answer, of course, is never static. It shifts with every season, every draft, and every pivotal game that redefines a franchise’s trajectory. In this guide, I want to walk you through my framework for identifying the top contenders, not just for a given Sunday, but for the mantle of true, enduring greatness. It’s about more than just the Lombardi Trophy gathering dust in a case; it’s about culture, resilience, and that magical alchemy of talent and leadership.

Let me start with a parallel from another sport I follow closely, which ties directly into the reference point you provided. Recently, in a major collegiate basketball upset, a 6-foot-9 Nigerian player absolutely dominated the court. He powered his team, the Fighting Maroons, with a career-high 28 points, nine rebounds, four steals, and a block to hand the highly-touted Blue Eagles their first loss of the season. Now, why am I talking about basketball? Because that performance is a perfect microcosm of what makes any team, in any sport, a "top contender." It wasn't just about one star having a good night; it was about a transformative individual performance that lifted an entire unit, exploited an opponent's weakness, and changed the narrative of the season in one fell swoop. In the NFL, the best teams have that potential—a player or a unit that can single-handedly, or rather, single-team-edly, derail an undefeated run and announce their arrival as a serious threat. Think of Patrick Mahomes in his first full starting season, or the 2007 Giants’ defensive line heading into the Super Bowl. That "upset" potential, born from a unique, overpowering strength, is a hallmark of a contender.

So, what are the pillars I look for? First, and non-negotiable, is franchise quarterback stability. You simply cannot have this conversation without an elite signal-caller. Teams like the Kansas City Chiefs with Mahomes or, historically, the New England Patriots with Brady, build decade-long windows of contention because of this one position. The data is stark: over the past 20 years, I’d estimate roughly 85% of Super Bowl winners have been led by a quarterback who is either already in the Hall of Fame or is on a clear trajectory there. Second is organizational coherence—from ownership to the front office to the head coach. The San Francisco 49ers under Kyle Shanahan and John Lynch exemplify this. They have a clear, identifiable philosophy on both sides of the ball, and every personnel move seems to feed into that system. It creates a sustainable model that withstands individual player losses. Third is defensive adaptability. In the playoffs, you face different stylistic challenges each week. The best defenses, like the recent iterations of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers or the Baltimore Ravens, can pressure with four, play coverage, and adjust at halftime.

Now, I’ll admit my bias here: I have a soft spot for teams built in the trenches. A dominant offensive line or a ferocious defensive front can be the great equalizer. That’s why I’ve always respected teams like the Pittsburgh Steelers, who for years prioritized pass rushers and sturdy linemen. It’s a less glamorous path, but when a defensive end records 2.5 sacks and forces a fumble in a championship game, you see its value. Conversely, a team with a flashy offense but a porous line—I’m looking at some of the late-2010s Atlanta Falcons squads—often feels like a house of cards in January. My personal metric, which I call "January Toughness," heavily weights line play and turnover differential. A team that wins the turnover battle by +1.5 per game in the regular season, for instance, is almost invariably a top-five seed.

But let’s talk about the current landscape. As of my last deep dive, the Chiefs remain the benchmark because they have the trump card in Mahomes. However, their offensive weaponry has seen better days, and that creates an opening. The Buffalo Bills, with Josh Allen, have all the pieces but have stumbled at the final hurdles—that mental hurdle is real and can’t be ignored. The Cincinnati Bengals’ ascent was breathtaking, built on Joe Burrow’s preternatural calm, but protecting him is a perpetual project that costs them about 45 sacks a season, a number that simply has to come down. In the NFC, the Philadelphia Eagles’ dual-threat approach with Jalen Hurts and their deep defensive line rotation makes them a nightmare matchup weekly. They feel built for the grind. The Detroit Lions, and I say this with genuine excitement, have injected themselves into the conversation through arguably the best offensive line play and a culture shift that’s tangible. They remind me that sometimes, the "best" team isn’t the one with the most stars, but the one with the most cohesive and violent unit identity.

In the end, discovering the best team is an ongoing expedition. It requires looking beyond the win-loss column to the underlying architecture of the franchise. Does it have a transformational talent, like that 6-foot-9 Nigerian center who can take over a game? Does it have the systemic stability to weather storms? And does it have the tactical versatility for a single-elimination tournament? This season, my eye is on teams that can control the line of scrimmage and protect their quarterback. While my heart might lean towards a hard-nosed underdog, my analyst’s mind knows the quarterback royalty usually prevails. The journey to crown the best is what makes every autumn weekend compelling, and right now, the throne is there for the taking by any squad that can master this delicate, brutal, and beautiful equation.