Ask a Goon about PUMBA, and you will see him smile and glow with the memory of good times. Ask a non-Goon, and they will give you a funny look. Here is what Mr. Webster has to say about a Goon:
1. a hired hoodlum or thug
2. a stupid, foolish, or awkward person
3. a member of the 1973 Lawrence Academy Cross Country Team
A Goon would define PUMBA as the official game of said team.
Stuart Miller, in his book Males & Friendship, states that many men claim that they do not have many close male friendships. Miller interviewed hundreds of men to find out about their relationships, and the theme was the same for all: Men find it hard to sustain deep friendships with other men.
I had a strong role model for male friendships, as my father was part of a group of guys that began as an athletic/social club when they were ten, and those that are alive are still friends today, more than 75 years later! Theirs was a very organized group with formal membership, dues, meetings, sports competitions, and social meetings. They called themselves The Trojans. I loved listening to my father’s stories, and the names of the guys became legendary in our house. I always hoped that I could have a group of friends like my father had.
Until my junior year of high school, I felt that I lacked close ties with other males. My father used to say “You reap what you sow,” and I think it is that mantra that encouraged me to do a lot of friendship-sowing in my life. I consider myself very fortunate to have created a group of guys that have been my friends for over 40 years.
It all started at Lawrence Academy in Groton, MA with the cross country team. We called ourselves The Goons. The origins of the name are a little unclear, but we knew it had nothing to do with the typical meaning. To us, it signifies brotherhood and bonds. The Goons served an important purpose for each of us. For some, the guys were brothers they never had. For me it was the first group of friends I had where I didn’t have to prove myself by doing anything other than being myself. What brought us together was running, but what bound us was the need to fit in, to belong to a group of like-minded guys who were accepting and loving. The Goons shared the experience of growing up together in the Fall of 1973 and beyond. We had our best season in years when we went 9 – 1, with that one loss at the end of the season to Governor Dummer (“What a bummer!”). We lost by just a few points, and that stung. Had we gone undefeated, would that have changed our relationship? Or was sharing the experience of that painful loss part of the life lessons that bonded us?
In the Fall of 1979, we experienced an even more painful loss when Tom Warner, our top runner, died of a brain tumor at age 22. Tom was a star student-athlete,and an incredible friend. He was the guy everyone loved. Why was he chosen to have a brain tumor? It made no sense to any of us. I prayed hard (in days when I was not into prayer), as did the rest of The Goons, saying “Please, let him survive!” We rallied around him in the hospital room, and at home in his last days. Tom’s very strong mother made sure that despite being in a coma, he knew he was surrounded by love and The Goons. We gathered around him playing the music of our youth and talking to him. Although that love couldn’t save him, perhaps it saved us.
We were young, inexperienced at this type of loss, unsure of how to deal with it, and finding our way through the pain together and separately. Moving through the grief process helped keep us together, as we experienced a loss that overshadowed and put into perspective that lone silly defeat of 1973. Maybe we needed to go through that pain to remind us how important we were to each other, and the fragility of life.
At the most recent reunion of The Goons in the summer of 2016, we hugged like brothers. Because we don’t all live near each other, our reunions are not as often as we would like. Fortunately, we have significant others who understand the importance of this bond, and encourage us to get together.
The love, brotherhood and feelings have not waned. Like brothers and friends, we have had our ups and downs over the years, individually and as a group. Why do we stick together? Tradition, history, love, brotherhood, still being kids at heart, and the shared experiences of our cross country season and of losing our best friend. Having been together for so long, we have shared many life cycle events over the years, both happy and sad. We have enjoyed sharing our adult lives, our triumphs and defeats, and supporting one another, just as we did on the cross country course. Sharing experiences is the glue that binds us, across the miles and the years.
During that amazing 1973 cross country season, we invented a silly game that we played with a tennis ball during practice. We called it PUMBA, and it was a huge factor in our togetherness. It was a combination of goofy things you could do with the ball – kicking it to each other like a soccer ball, throwing it around like a football, playing Wall-ball and getting our uniforms dirty by diving to make dramatic catches. It was a non-competitive sport that even a non-athlete like myself could play with our top runners. It leveled the playing field and there was never one star player. We made up rules as we went along, we had “crowds” watching and cheering us on, and we encouraged each other. The important part of the game was the effort, not the outcome, because no one was keeping score, and there were no“winners,” at the end of a game. This was the start of my philosophy of “applaud the effort, not the outcome.” PUMBA was never a “game” in the traditional sense; it was an activity that ended when we ran out of energy or when it was time to shower and move on to the next activity. The PUMBA ball remains a symbol to us of this carefree “game” and bond that said we were all equals. Before The Goons, my experience with other guys had been that non-athletes were not invited into the club, and were outsiders. The Goons didn’t put as much value on an outcome; it was all about the fun. I loved going 9-1 in the cross country season. The guys taught me that regardless of the score, I was a part of the team because of who I was, and because I was a mean PUMBA player! For me, acceptance into this brotherhood was life changing.
How do we find ways for others to have this same experience of acceptance into “the club?” How can we recreate The Goons and The Trojans for other young guys so that they feel appreciated for their efforts and not their outcome? One goal of The Gentle Man is to spread the word, and explain how male friendships have worked for us, with the hope that others can follow our example. I’m hoping, praying, and expecting that The Goons will last as long as The Trojans.
P.S. It is possible, as one of The Goons and I discussed most recently, that I have over-analyzed this whole situation. It could be very simple – we are just a bunch of Goons who love each other, unashamedly.