Many Western Pennsylvanians are hopping down the warpath of righteousness this week after the Pittsburgh Steelers signed veteran quarterback Michael Vick to a one-year contract as Ben Roethlisberger’s backup.

Their collective wrath has nothing to do with throwing footballs; instead, it’s about throwing stones.

Vick, 35 is a convicted dogfight operator and an admitted dog-killer, an offense many pet lovers find unforgivable.

It certainly is repugnant. Dogfighting is a sadistic sport. It also happens to be illegal.

There’s no moral justification in torturing animals by goading them into fights, often to the death.

But is it unforgivable? A walk in Vick’s shoes might prod some of the righteous to reconsider.

Vick was born and raised in Newport News, Va., in a public-housing project near a Navy base, where residents say drive-by shootings and drug deals were commonplace.

It’s a pit bull-tough town were tolerance is seen as weakness, a character flaw.

A young man growing up there would be keenly aware of the need to look tough, act tough and be tough. In a 2001 newspaper interview, Vick said that when he was 10 or 11, “I would go fishing even if the fish weren’t biting, just to get away from the violence and stress of daily life in the projects.”

As a town in the South, Newport News also harbors vestiges of an ethnic and geographical culture that condones dogfighting just as defiantly as the Spanish culture embraces bullfighting.

“He’s from the South, from the Deep South ... This is part of his cultural upbringing,” talk show host and comedian Whoopi Goldberg said, defending Vick in 2007. “For a lot of people, dogs are sport. Instead of just saying he’s a beast and he’s a monster, this is a kid who comes from a culture where this is not questioned.”

Goldberg was defending Vick, not dogfighting. Even so, she was widely criticized for the observation.

Vick was only 20 when he dropped out of Virginia Tech to go pro. He became an instant millionaire and a celebrity, with no foundational experience in handling wealth or fame. He was still a kid from the projects, laden with a consciousness of what that culture valued — things like dogfighting.

And the culture of football at every level encourages and rewards toughness. Vick already had it when he entered the NFL. The NFL did nothing to diminish it.

Vick is older now — at 35 he’s in the twilight of his career. He now draws from a wider assortment of experiences.

He’s paid a steep price for his abuse of dogs, most significantly two entire seasons in the peak years of his NFL career, along with millions of dollars in paid endorsements. In addition to his 21 months in prison, Vick was compelled to put more than $1 million in escrow for the lifetime care of the dogs that were rescued from his kennels.

Finally, Vick says he’s repentant. He’s committed to rebuilding his reputation. He does volunteer work for the SPCA.

Is it a change of heart or just a change of awareness that the public is watching? Only Vick knows that.

But the bottom line is that the Steelers see value in the four-time pro-bowler and offered him a one-year deal.

Maybe we should consider it a probationary period.