Gawd (Dawg spelled backwards) I just never had the desire to enter mutt stadium. While I am admittedly peaceful and Gandhi-like, I'm just pretty sure, win or lose, that I would get into a fight with some mutt. Of course, not at all because liquid courage would be involved.
Reminds me of the 2008 Apple Cup, which we left when defeat seemed imminent. Ran into an obnoxious mutt punk in the RV lot (back when permits were cheap and I had one), talking shit to some other Cougs. I looked at him, and walked away not once, but twice. The third time, when the former Mrs. Loyal (sniff
) said "let it go", and he said "listen to your woman", I sort of lost it and slammed his punk ass to the ground and was proceeding to explore his neck and vertebrae with my hands. As I recall vaguely (I was fortified), some chick started kicking me, and his (Coug) friends pulled me off. "He's just a kid, mister".
Anyway, we came back and I ended up running back to the stadium and catching Grasu's game winning kick. Much fun ensued. Until the next day when I woke up with a couple of broken ribs. Mutt-loving chick anyway.
Imagine my drunk ass at mutt stadium.....