There's something about large sporting events that brings out the grenadier in drunk morons. They enter a large public mass and begin to feel this queer sense of invulnerability, which boils over into a need to interject themselves into the action.

The mixing of these elements—aided by the ever unreliable Bushmills—will eventually lead to their inner-siege wall warrior emerging and bottles flying toward the field.

The act of chucking something isn't a sure-fire way out of a stadium, however. What you throw is the most important factor. Chucking peanut shells is annoying, but it isn't a lifetime ban. A Maglite loaded with D-cells, on the other hand, could get you one of those fancy, felony indictments.