The landlord drops a glass

Sunday afternoon pints. My mate’s been in the Bridge since 2pm and you’d think he was celebrating Ireland’s win over Italy given the amount of Guinness he has shipped onboard. I’ve just popped in for a quick Otter Ale and then the landlord drops a glass behind the bar. A cheer resounds, which takes me back to my youth — whenever anyone dropped a glass in the pub a cheer would go up. I had not heard this sound for years. Is the survival of this tradition akin to the sort of folk memories that associate a huntsman on a horse with the marauding Norman knights from hundreds of years ago? Or just loutish behaviour by my mate?