GOLDEN – In the ultimate revenge of a computer science nerd, John Matocha pulls on his Orediggers super-hero uniform on Saturday morning and turns into a full-grown brute of a Groot.

“I’m not the biggest guy. But I’ve got a big heart,” said Matocha, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

And every time this 5-foot-11, 180-pound quarterback takes off with the football, he stares a would-be tackler in the eye and thinks: “I can truck him!”

On a frightfully snowy Halloween weekend, Matocha and those nerds from Colorado School Mines did it again, plowing previously unbeaten Western Colorado 42-7 to keep on truckin’ as the No. 1-ranked team in NCAA Division II football.

During a frigid afternoon when Matocha did the remarkable, accounting for a record 172nd touchdown of his college career, he also did something almost unthinkable for a dude who plays with such I-am-Groot ferocity that he’s tougher to tackle than the trunk of an four-ton tree.

Late in the fourth quarter, with Mines’ seventh victory in the Rocky Mountain Athletic Conference well in hand, the fiery quarterback of the Orediggers took off from the pocket on third-and-long, spied the distant first-down marker and playfully slid in the snow rather than challenging the Western Colorado tacklers bearing down on him to a battle royale.

“I hate it every time I slide,” laughed Matocha, who a year ago won the Harlon Hill Award, which is a baby Heisman unburdened by all that endless politicking and statistical squabbling on ESPN.

Matocha hails from Magnolia, Texas, and is forged in steel. My free advice: Don’t mess with him. He’s a quarterback that has passed for more than 13,000 yards in his brilliant college career, but never seems happier on the field than when he’s running with the football.

“You can count on a single hand the amount of times I’ve slid in the last five years,” Matocha said.

His hard-headed mindset when hurtling head-long into a football collision with the ball tucked under his arm? “I think I can truck him. I’m usually wrong. But sometimes it works out and gets the team hyped up.”

I swear the voice of Orediggers coach Pete Sterbick gets froggy and his eyes grow misty when he considers everything Matocha has done for him and the program.

“I just love that kid,” Sterbick said. “When he walks in a room, it gets brighter. And when he walks out, it gets darker.”

Well, dig this: After being ranked No. 1 for the first time in school history, Mines has all but assured itself a first-round bye in the playoffs, where the goal is nothing less than a national championship.

Rather than be frustrated when a 17-play drive to open the first quarter ended with an interception, Matocha let the ornery Mines defense take matters into its own hands until the senior quarterback blew a seven-point contest at halftime wide open by leading four touchdown drives in the second half.

In the end, this showdown for first place in the conference was not even as close as the score would indicate, with the Orediggers running circles around the Mountaineers, with a 505-142 advantage in total yardage.

What the Orediggers have built isn’t as loud as Deion Sanders. There aren’t rappers and NBA stars roaming the sideline of Marv Kay Stadium when the burro leads the team onto the field. On an October afternoon when wet snow sent shivers up the spine, there were 5,565 fans braving the cold to laugh and cheer together as a happy football congregation. These engineers build community, one TD at a time.

In the age of name, image and likeness, when CU quarterback Shedeur Sanders can make $5 million per year by leveraging the fame of his family name, know what’s cool? There are brilliant, young engineers throughout the Mines starting lineup who have delayed leaving the Golden campus for jobs paying $100,000 (or more) in a quest for priceless football memories that will last a lifetime.

“The culture around here is a brotherhood that goes way beyond football and way beyond friends,” Matocha said.

Yes, the game feels bigger, louder and more expensive at football factories from Ohio State to Alabama. But you tell me: Does college football ever feel like more pure, sweet fun than this?

At the end of the fourth quarter, after Mines had run its record to 9-0, kicker Hunter Pearson, who grew up in balmy South Carolina, celebrated by throwing himself on green artificial turf blanketed in an inch of white flakes, and grinned with a glee that never grows old while waving his arms and legs on the ground, making one big, happy snow angel.