I have no idea what it is like to play college football.

For some of you, that might be obvious, despite my incredible foray in creating awesome touchdown celebrations. (I got it on lock Ochocinco.)

I don’t go through a roll of pre-wrap and athletic tape on the left side of my body alone each game, and then afterward, soak in a tub of bone-chilling ice water to recuperate.

I’m not repeatedly asked about a national championship when four games remain on the regular-season calendar.

I am not a football player. I am just a witness.

On Oct. 24, I witnessed the power of the recognizable in East Lansing, Mich. — an older sister’s smile that still attains a your-still-my-little-brother aura, the hair swoop of a doting father, and the rapid snapping of a proud mother’s new digital camera.

Enveloped by the unfamiliar, it takes just one person to settle the unnerving feeling clawing up the spine.

For Joe Montana, it was comedian John Candy.

“There, in the stands, standing near the exit ramp, isn’t that John Candy?” Montana told tackle Harris Barton with the San Francisco 49ers down by three points with 3:20 left in the 1989 Super Bowl. Ninety-two yards later, a ’Niner touchdown.

Montana may be the “Comeback King,” but Iowa has seized the “Comeback team” crown without the need to ask for world peace like a beauty queen. (You listening, BCS?)

Quarterback Ricky Stanzi led the Hawkeyes down field and hit teammate Marvin McNutt perfectly as the game clock expired, putting a No. 8 in the win column.

Immediately following the much-needed dog pile atop McNutt in the end zone, Stanzi ran off, helmet in hand to the section where his adoring parents watched their son become a Hawkeye hero. He wanted to share the moment and his enthusiasm with the two people who have known him the longest.

His dad sports the same hot pink “Princess Jenna” bracelet, a reminder of a 4-year-old Hawkeye fan with cancer. He also shares the long surfer-like hair that Stanzi once had and won’t grow back.

“I tried it. I didn’t think I looked too good in it,” he said. “It’s just not the look I was going for.”

Former Hawkeye and current Denver Bronco guard Seth Olsen sat next to Stanzi’s parents. In the opening minutes, the Iowa offense line struggled to create holes for tailback Adam Robinson (his first three carries netted only three yards).

Olsen might have recognized the first-play tenseness in his old buddies and couldn’t take it. Only a season removed the regiment of college ball, the 6-5 Olsen went down to the railing, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and clapping his palms together.

During a TV time-out, Iowa center Rafael Eubanks saw his friend in denim jeans using his hands as if to communicate, “Hold on. You got this. Calm down,” with every thumbs up and gesture.

Eubanks responded by moving his gloved hands up and down as if to say, “I know. We’ve got this.”

The O-line played, in my opinion, its best in East Lansing, and Stanzi’s drive catapulted the Hawkeyes into the record books.

So maybe sometime soon, Stanzi may say in the huddle on third and long with 1:38 left, “Hey, isn’t that Ashton Kutcher above the tunnel?”