HOUSTON – Kris Jenkins had the national championship trophy in his hands. National championship hat on his head. National championship net threaded through the back of the hat.

As NRG Stadium still buzzed with the aftershocks from the greatest ending the NCAA tournament has ever seen, Jenkins stood on the podium and faced the stadium big screen. He was waiting for the show every college basketball player dreams of starring in.

The music started, and he sucked in his lips. “One Shining Moment” played. Kris Jenkins watched – still in something of a dream state – and shook his head. Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

When the video montage of the 2016 tournament came to its final scene – Jenkins swishing the buzzer-beating 3-pointer that lifted Villanova past North Carolina, 77-74, a climactic shot that pushes Lorenzo Charles, Keith Smart, Mario Chalmers, Christian Laettner and every other hero down a notch in March Madness lore – Jenkins nodded.

Making the shot? He could believe that.

“Kris Jenkins lives for that moment,” Villanova coach Jay Wright had said moments earlier.

Teammates watching the video next to Jenkins patted his head. Then the music ended and Jenkins shook his head again, disbelief returning. The larger reality was still too much to fully comprehend.

“Wow,” he thought, “we’re really national champions. Who would have thought?”

Who would have thought that a guy who Wright wasn’t sure was the right fit for his blue-collar program – or if he had the work ethic to make it – would become the biggest hero in school history? Who would have thought that a forward who showed up at the Catholic school in Philadelphia three years ago weighing 280 pounds would drop 40, earn the nickname “Slim” and become an absolute no-fear shooter? Who would have thought that with the ball in the hands of senior guard Ryan Arcidiacono, the epitome of this Villanova program, he would give up the shot that decided the title to Kris Jenkins?

“I’ve been doubted my whole life,” Jenkins said. “People always had ‘buts.’ Like, ‘Kris can do this, but ...’ Now they can say I’m a national champion.”

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Teams that win the NCAA championship have been known to purchase the Final Four court, sometimes putting it in their practice facility or using it for fundraising opportunities. Villanova should buy this one and put the following plaque on the floor about 25 feet out on the right wing:

Jenkins’ Jumper.

That’s the spot where Villanova’s flawless final play climaxed with Jenkins’ immortal shot. It’s a bit of a shame to distill an excellent game to the last play, or even the last minute. But that is what people will remember for decades to come.

Start with Marcus Paige. Poor Marcus Paige. Class kid, brilliant student, he had willed the Tar Heels back from a 10-point deficit into a stunning tie at 74 with 4.7 seconds left. He scored eight points in the final 1:30. His tying shot was one of the greats in NCAA history – a double-clutch 3 in which he ducked a flying Arcidiacono before letting it fly.

Degree of difficulty: 1 million.

“Unbelievable shot,” Jenkins said.

But like Sean Woods’ banker in The Spectrum in 1992 against Duke, it turned out to merely be the penultimate play. Destined to be overshadowed by the guy who had the ball last.

What happened next was a showcase of what Wright’s Villanova program has become: poise, toughness, intelligence, togetherness, unselfishness.

Wright called timeout, and there was no panic from the veteran Wildcats. They said the program’s buzzword to each other: “Attitude.” Then: “Next play.” Move on, and focus on this last chance.

Wright called the end-clock play Villanova practices daily during the “Wildcat Minute” portion of practice, when they practice late-game scenarios. Everyone knew what to do.

But when Villanova broke the huddle and took the court amid palpable tension, Arcidiacano and fellow senior Daniel Ochefu noticed a problem: some sweat near midcourt, from where Ochefu dove minutes earlier. They asked for the mops to come out and clean it up, and Ochefu wound up doing the mopping himself when he didn’t think the job was being done right.

“I knew the little kid was having a hard time,” he said with a smile. “It was exactly where I had to set the screen. I didn’t want to slip. I didn’t want Arch to slip.”

Carolina apparently wasn’t tipped off by that action because it did not defend Villanova’s final play with great distinction.

The Tar Heels laid back as Jenkins inbounded to Arcidiacono, who dribbled upcourt against North Carolina’s Joel Berry. Arch took two dribbles left-handed down the left sideline, toward Ochefu’s midcourt screen, then crossed over to his right hand just before reaching Ochefu. Berry avoided colliding with the screen but was out of position to harass Arch at that point.

Arch took the last two of his four right-handed dribbles. Ochefu had told him in the timeout, “Shoot it,” and nobody at Villanova would have blamed the heart-and-soul kid for hoisting it for the win. But he is a team guy first, a winner to the core, and his ears told him there was a better play to make.

“Arch! Arch! Arch!”

It was Jenkins, trailing the play and all alone.

“When I take the ball out, the ball gets up the court, the defenders usually follow the ball,” Jenkins explained.

That’s exactly what happened. The player who had been guarding Ochefu, Isaiah Hicks, joined Berry in pursuing Arch. Nobody was with Jenkins, who caught the ball in perfect rhythm as Hicks made a delayed lunge toward him.

Players practice that in shooting drills every day: catch and take two steps into the shot. There’s no telling how many 3s Jenkins has hoisted that way.

Just none of them with the national title on the line.

“When Arch threw the ball, one-two step,” Jenkins said. “Shoot ‘em up, sleep in the streets.”

That’s another ‘Nova motto, a Wright-ism that can be interpreted as: shoot without fear. And nobody has less fear than Jenkins, who this year launched a team-high 259 3s.

“I believe every shot is going in,” he said. “The 11 shots I shot today, I thought they were all going in.”

Only six did. But the final one was what mattered most, and his teammates shared his belief at that moment.

When asked what he thought when Jenkins rose and fired with less than a second on the clock, Arch said, “It’s good. It’s going in.”

Jenkins’ thoughts, watching it in air: “Ballgame.”

Ballgame, indeed. Jenkins bent over double as the ball traveled through the laquered air, spinning so slowly you wondered whether it ever would get there. The orange light framed the backboard, signaling that time had expired. Everyone held their breath.

When the ball swished and 75,000 people exploded in either joyous disbelief, anguished disbelief or just utter disbelief, Jenkins stood straight up and lifted his arms over his head.

Conqueror of Carolina. King of the world.

“Man,” he thought. “Did that really just go in?”

The answer arrived like the Denver Broncos pass rush a second later. Five or six teammates tackled him, as streamers fell from the ceiling.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever been gang-hugged by my teammates,” Jenkins said.

He didn’t stay down for long. Jenkins got up and kept getting hugged. Family found him – family that includes the mother of North Carolina guard Nate Britt, who is Jenkins’ de facto brother. The two were AAU teammates and close friends, and when Jenkins’ mother moved to South Carolina to coach college basketball, she decided Kris was better off staying in his home area and moving in with the Britts.

They became his legal guardians. Jenkins counts his days with the Britts among the happiest of his life. He said he prays every morning and every night, thanking them for the opportunities they provided.

“That family has been unbelievable with me,” he said.

They helped persuade Villanova that Jenkins was a good fit there. That he would do the work to lose the weight and be a productive player for a demanding coach. Jenkins more than lived up to Wright’s demands.

“I’ve never been a quitter in my life,” he said. “I wanted to show everyone that I was the hardest worker they’ve ever had.”

Now he’s the biggest hero Villanova has ever had.

When the media was finally herded out of the Wildcats’ locker room, after midnight Houston time, Kris Jenkins still sat in a chair. Still in uniform. He wanted to cut the tape off his ankles because his feet hurt, but otherwise he was in no rush. The moment was too perfect.

The national championship trophy was still in his hands.

“It’s staying with me,” he said. “I’m keeping it with me for a long time.”