So, as 2009 drew to a close, Howard’s Juicebox managed their first ever win, and were finally able to taste that victory pint. Could their good fortune continue into 2010? Here’s the latest report from within the team camp on their first match of the new year…

‘Howard’s Juicebox re-convened this week in typical post-Christmas fashion. We’d all been working on our upper-body strength, or rather our upper-body weight. Christmas had done our stomachs well, but how would our slighlty porkier team do in a league where we often found ourselves lapsing into what can only be called “worrying levels of fitness”?

We turned up half an hour before kick-off, surely a mistake considering the appaling weather conditions? At least we all knew how the North Pole national team felt when they trained, or rather how they would feel if they were to exist. We passed the ball around in an effort to shake off the icicles that were now forming on our limbs.

Olly was sporting a new shirt, which was actually a Secret Santa gift from Jack. A plain red t-shirt, with Olly’s name and number drawn on by hand, he even went as far as to draw on a team badge in the shape of a juice carton. Kilshaw also rocked up with a fresh pair of astro boots, no doubt another Christmas present. As we were warming up, I tried to lay down some tactical ideas. This is all I could muster: “when we have a corner, I’ll shout ‘gramophone!’ and then run to the front post for a cheeky tap-in”. I couldn’t gauge if anyone was actually listening or not, but I’m pretty sure I saw Rob nod his head like it was the best idea he had ever heard.

With our first victory now behind us, there was an air of confidence buzzing through the team that we had yet to experience, we stormed onto the pitch hungry for our next scalp. I opted to start on the bench again, still hoping to emulate some kind of Solskjaer heroics. We had a few early chances and we definitely looked the brighter of the two teams. A thick sheet of ice blanketed the pitch and David commented how we perhaps should have come equipped with ice skates rather than our usual astro boots. I wondered whether we should have come at all…

We moved the ball nicely up the frosty pitch and Jack had a pop from the edge of the area, one of their defenders stuck their foot out in an attempted clearance only to guide the ball into the back of their neck. 1-0! Even if slightly fortunate, we were off to a great start and I wasn’t even on the pitch yet! From the sidelines I chanted that we were six-nil to the good, in a failed attempt to confuse the opposition and force them to give up hope. They looked at me like I was some kind of lunatic. Fair enough.

Olly started running towards me. Being subbed on was the last thing I wanted, it was about minus forty degrees and leaving the safety of the sidelines felt like a foolish idea. Anyhow, I ran on in macho fashion. After a minor bit of pressure from the opposition, we were constantly on the offensive and had what seemed like a million corners in a row. I saw this as a great time to try out “Gramophone”. Rob pinged the ball to the front post, but I failed to get to the front post in time to meet the ball and then narrowly avoided a collision with the actual post. That would be the first and final time we would try “Gramophone” that night, much to my disapproval.

The other team seemed to be lost at times, their passes were all over the shop and they lacked any real cohesion. One problem might have been that they weren’t all wearing the same colour kit, two players were in yellow, but apart from that it seemed that each player had chosen to represent a different part of Joseph’s technicolour dreamcoat. Oh how nice it feels to finally be able to criticize a team other than your own.

After they again failed to clear the ball properly, Locky stepped in and played a short pass to Kilshaw, who in turn fed the ball to Jack. Jack ran at their defence then guided the sweetest of cutbacks to Rob, who powered the ball home from a few yards out. 2-0. I know what you are thinking, I was on the bench for the first goal and completely uninvolved in the build up of the second. Whilst that might be true for the first, for the second goal, I was doing my fair share of shirt pulling off the ball, which must have had some kind of effect. Maybe.

The whistle blew for the end of the first half, and for the first time I looked around and the members of Howard’s Juicebox weren’t actually falling over gasping for air. Had we turned a corner? Sadly, that adrenaline buzz was slowly killed by the cold weather. I was sliding all over the icy pitch, combining those conditions with my well worn trainers that lacked any real grip, and well I wasn’t exactly shining out on the field. Even though our noses and fingers were surely nearing frostbite, we ploughed on.

I made a run and called for the pass, much to my surprise Jack made a magnificent through ball, but my lighting pace failed to get me there in time and what could have been a lovely goal was just added on to the long list of missed opportunities for our team that evening. The sound of the final whistle rang in our ears, and we started chanting “Up the Juicebox”. We congratulated the other guys for there efforts. Our first clean sheet and our first league victory, what a night.

Another victory and we were buzzing. I felt like I could play another game, but we went for a pint instead, or rather half the team did. Some of the guys still felt like they were working off those excess Christmas pounds and felt a pint wouldn’t help the situation, but Alex, Olly, Kilshaw and I felt differently. Locky disappeared on his bicycle much the same way he had arrived and Rob, Jack and David all walked home. Those of us that remained basked in the glory with a fine tasting victory pint.’