Paul Kengor: Drunk and stupid at the Pitt-Notre Dame game

“Drunk, fat, and stupid is no way to go through life, son.”

Such were the immortal words of advice from Dean Wormer to Kent “Flounder” Dorfman in the 1978 epic “Animal House.”

I have an addendum to Wormer’s advice: Drunk and stupid is also no way to go through a Pitt-Notre Dame game.

The two legendary football programs squared off Nov. 15 at Acrisure Stadium. Aside from the actual game, Pitt at halftime honored yet another Panther All-American who will enter the NFL Hall of Fame: Aaron Donald. The university also honored Tony Dorsett, who exactly 50 years earlier ran for 303 yards against Notre Dame as Pitt dashed to a national championship.

The temperature was ideal, unseasonably warm, low 60s with a threat of rain that never fell. ESPN brought its “GameDay” crew, including fan favorite and Pittsburgh native Pat McAfee, who opened the broadcast with a beautiful statement about the city and three rivers behind him birthing not only great football but America.

The stadium was electric, awesome. But things went sour as the Panthers proved no match for the Fighting Irish. And then fans turned ugly.

A stumpy, trollish-looking fellow next to me, probably late 50s, registered his disapproval of Notre Dame going up 21-3 by pivoting and slugging some poor kid who merely passed by in a Notre Dame jersey. The kid pleaded for an explanation before a pack of predators started shoving and barking expletives at him. Showing a higher level of intelligence than the gang of assailants, he tucked tail and spun out of there.

And what was the explanation? Beer, heaped atop anger at the score. The trollish guy had four empty cans at his feet and another in hand. His fellow bullies also were drunk.

About 15 minutes later, another fracas took form, developing more slowly by an intoxicated Notre Dame fan who randomly picked a fight with three young guys under the Jumbotron. I silently hoped the usher would call the police as I expressed gratitude for the metal detectors outside the gates. Imagine this insane asylum with guns and knives.

I grabbed my youngest son in search of an emptier, safer area. Alas, the space we found was quickly filled with another fight slowly unfolding in the same almost ritualistic albeit idiotic way.

“Dad, this is stupid,” observed my son. “They get in each other’s face, stare, and then others get between them. Why don’t they all just walk away?”

My answer: “Because they’re drunk, son. They’ve been drinking for hours.”

Tailgating began before sunrise. By game time, many fans had been consuming alcohol for seven hours. Aside from a blue-and-gold Pitt ballcap or shirt, the beer can was the accoutrement of choice for practically every fan not a child. I swear every adult was holding a $15 beer can.

My youngest son and I reconnected with my 18-year-old, who had bolted another section after witnessing a “sloppy drunk guy” shove a 14-year-old boy. The boy’s dad had to get involved. At that point midway through the third quarter, with the Panthers getting trounced, we decided to flee this growing crime scene of a football game.

When informed of this display of mass misbehavior, my wife asked me if the youngest son was “learning a lot” at this father-son field trip. I suppose so.

He learned that drunk and stupid are no way to go through life or a football game.