Like many other football fans in Michigan, I was thrilled and pleased with the news that Matthew Stafford’s quest to play in the Super Bowl is finally being met two Sundays hence.

I suppose it felt a lot like, “If the Lions can’t go to the big dance, it’s good that at least their former quarterback can.”

Stafford put up with a lot of adversity in his dozen years with Detroit, including many fans suggesting he wasn’t that good because he never led us to the promised land and he was a miserable 0-3 in playoff games.

I think Stafford erased the notions that he choked on big games when he won three straight in this year’s playoffs, giving him two more victories than the Lions and forgotten QB Erik Kramer since 1957.

Some of my friends (yes, I have friends) have suggested that I’m a hypocrite because a few years ago I wrote an editorial railing against prep athletes who switch from their hometown teams to greener pastures, which essentially is what Stafford did a year ago when he asked to be traded and was, to the Los Angeles Rams for a much better shot of being in the Super Bowl, a goal denied to other Lions greats Barry Sanders and Calvin Johnson.

But there actually is a huge difference. I still oppose prep athletes forsaking the hometown communities for the bright lights and adoration with more successful programs. I still consider them turncoats.

Not so Stafford, who served his 12-year sentence, did his time, with one of the worst franchises in NFL history. He asked to be traded and the Lions were given considerable compensation in the deal, which benefitted both teams.

No so prep athletes, who give nothing back to the communities and schools they left behind because of their personal selfishness.

Stafford’s achievement was so impressive for me that I have decided finally to lift my boycott, which goes all the way back to 1973. That’s when I was so grossed out by the overhyped spectacle propaganda that included the release of pigeons at halftime, discussions about what Washington coach George Allen likes to eat for breakfast and a pre-game show overloaded with pundits’ lame chit-chat.

The spectacle has gotten even worse over the years since because the marketing and advertising geniuses have conned the easily misled and naïve public to believe the commercials are just as good, if not better, than the game.

This has to make Mark Twain and H.L. Menken roll over in their graves and report, “I told you so.”

In January 1973, I then declared I would not watch the Super Bowl on television unless the Detroit Lions were in it. Right now, I’m settling for having only Stafford.

Meanwhile, I’ve also seen chatter on Facebook about having the Super Bowl played during the same time period on a Saturday night rather than a Sunday night. I’m totally on board. A Saturday night game would enable younger fans to watch as well without fears of having to go to school the next morning worn out and allowed less sleep.

Regardless, my hat goes off to all the Michigan folks who have swallowed their pride and expressed well wishes to Stafford and his Rams in a game we’ve never seen our loveable, laughable Lions play. In this era of the tribal chants of “you’re either for us or against us,” it is refreshing.

I have underestimated my fellow Michiganders, even when they are easily misled and easily fooled into eagerly watching the commercials, and lovin’ it.