While watching the Steelers’ 24-19 victory over the New York Jets in the AFC Championship Sunday, I felt I was doing my part.

Sitting at home and enjoying the game, I wasn’t going to rack up the YAC (yards after catch) or scoop up a fumble and score a touchdown.

Heck, aside from cheering — which was more than Chicago quarterback Jay Cutler could say — my role seemed minuscule.

Except, I was wearing my Steelers jersey.

When things started to go south in the second half, I retreated to the bedroom to get my Steelers slippers, hoping to turn the tide.

As it turned out, the Steelers held on, and, of course, I felt my donning those items had helped the team win.

As a reasonable man, I know it just doesn’t work like that. There are tens of millions of fans doing the same thing. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But when you find something that has a good track record, you stay with it.

Most of my formative years came in the 1970s, grade school and middle school. How amazing it was that the Steelers were perennial playoff participants and won an unheard of four Super Bowls in six years.

I thought, “Wow, this happens every year.” But then came the reality of the 1980s before the team rebounded in the early 1990s and has ridden an amazing wave.

I don’t know if my jersey, which bears the number of former Steelers running back Willie Parker, is anything special.

But I do know this: They won Sunday with me wearing it, so, needless to say, I’ll wear it again on Super Bowl Sunday.

I considered washing it, but thought it best to wait until after the Super Bowl. Aside from the fact it’s still clean, washing a good-luck article of clothing supposedly takes away the mojo.

As ridiculous as it sounds, most of us will do this. The slippers? I just felt I needed to do something extra to bolster the Steelers.

How bizarre is that?

There are people who take it to a greater extreme. I don’t remember what our menu was at our last Steelers Super Bowl party, but I did notice they moved the ball on Arizona as I was leaning against a wall.

My wife told me to sit down, but I couldn’t. Leaning against the wall had brought the team something and I couldn’t run the risk of changing it.

During the last Super Bowl run, I wrote columns about why the Steelers would lose that particular playoff round, but they won. I couldn’t pick them to win at that point, they won.

Like Stevie Wonder sang in his song “Superstition,” “When you believe in things that you don’t understand, then you suffer, superstition ain’t the way.”

For football fans, more than any in other sports, who’s willing to take that chance? Not me. Not on my watch.