Things were looking pretty dire when the urban cowboy walked in.

Iowa was down 17-3, Spencer Petras looked pestered and ineffective. Even the vaunted Hawkeye defense was off-balance and rattled, having given up back-to-back touchdown drives and a field goal.

The mood among our small group of Hawkeye fans at The Hatch Cover, an old school honky-tonk sports bar on the outskirts of Colorado Springs, was turning sour. Maybe Iowa really was overrated and about to be exposed as a fraud Top 5 team.

As we moped and nursed our beers during a TV timeout, the cowboy hipster dude strolled up to the jukebox. He wore a black fedora on his head, a fringed vest over a gold shirt and snakeskin boots with skull and crossbones stitched above the steel toes.

I swear he gave our depressed gathering a knowing smile as he punched in a long playlist of outlaw country songs. Like he knew something we didn’t and he had the cure to what ailed us.

He sauntered away into the main section of the bar, leaving us to watch and pray for a miracle.

It was right as Johnny Cash told us he shot a man in Reno just to watch him die when Petras hit Charlie Jones on a 9-yard touchdown strike.

Waylon Jennings let us know a country boy can survive just as Penn State trotted out their unprepared backup quarterback for the next series, injured Sean Clifford not even on the sideline.

Game on.

As the Kinnick crowd noise swelled to jet-engine decibels and the steel guitars and fiddles reached a crescendo, the Iowa defense entered feeding frenzy mode. By this point, our raucous table had drawn the attention of what were clearly Hatch Cove regulars. Bemused by the intensity or our passion, every television set in the bar was tuned into the Iowa game and we welcomed the added support of our newly minted Iowa fans.

I swear I’m not making this up: any time the jukebox ran out of credits and some lame pop or rap song auto-played, Penn State surged and Iowa started stalling out again. I spent much of the second half with one eye on the game while frantically punching in David Alan Coe and Billy Joe Shaver songs into the jukebox.

I’ve had a lot of weird superstitions I’ve been forced to follow over the many years of my Hawkeye fandom, but know this: if Iowa makes the National Championship game, I will book a flight to Colorado with my pockets full of quarters.

Missing the best game in Kinnick since 1985 is a bummer. But I still think we brought a little mojo to the proceedings, even from halfway across the country.

It feels good to have the non-conference and Big 10 East division portion of the schedule behind us. Getting past an aggressive and talented Penn State team in an old-school slobberknocker game was emotionally exhausting, but our work as fans is not done.

No one really saw this special season coming and as Iowa fans we know things can still go catastrophically off the rails at any moment. I implore all of you, though, to enjoy the ride as it unfolds. The Hawkeyes are in rarefied air and we as fans deserve to enjoy the accolades, even if some outsiders and naysayers continue to believe this flawed-but-focused team is heading for a comeuppance.

I like that the schedule is not set up for a letdown game. There is no way these players overlook a Purdue team that nipped them in the 2020 season opener, adding insult to injury after a tumultuous and trying offseason.

Wisconsin looks down, giving the Hawkeyes an opportunity to seize the spotlight as the West Division’s power program. Northwestern is another revenge game, Illinois is now helmed by Brent Bielema, a former Hawkeye hero-turned-tormentor and Nebraska is a team everyone in Iowa wants to destroy.

Obviously, there is no guarantee of another 12-0 regular season, but the path to it is clear.

The outside noise around the program is about to be turned up to 11. Seeing Iowa listed as a likely CFP participant is exhilarating, but also a little scary. We’re used to being just on the outside of the big boy table, wishing we could rub elbows with the bluebloods. Now, we have forced ourselves into the dining room and are hungry.

There is no doubt the Hawkeyes are the unwanted houseguest at the party. It’s not going to be easy, and there will be pitfalls along the way. But to paraphrase Little Feat, the Hawks may have had their head stoved in, but they’re still on their feet. And they’re willin’.

Follow me on Twitter @ToryBrecht