The Holiday season is upon us. As I walk the brightly lit streets, the gleaming blues and jolly whites illuminate the evergreens and musty bars alike. I'm filled with nostalgic joy, which contests with my disgust with the luminous ploys to grab my attention. So many cool spots in this city, authentic cuisine, world-famous sports teams and kind friends making cookies at their apartments. Yet the people come to see a 10 foot metal polar bear covered in cotton balls.
But alas, my age is getting to me, 22 years on this planet and my heart has worn cold and weary. Maybe a good holiday cheer could do me up well. December is here, and as old tales tell us, this is the time where wishes come true. For this holiday season, I wish just one simple thing, one yearning of my soul that needs to be itched, to witness in all its glory - a Chelsea Men’s Football Club victory against the Watford Football Club where a lad Mason Mount plays a tactical role “False 9” and succeeds despite lack of experience in the role and one of Callum Hudson-Odoi or Christian Pulisic utilizes the space opened up by Mason Mounts movement and scores the goal the assures victory for the Chelsea Men’s Football Club.
T’is the season after all, eh?

10 things I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving:

1) The Boxers
2) The Boxees
3) Singapore's expulsion from the New Federation of Malaysia in 1965
4) Nutmeg
5) Julian Nagglesman's coat selection vs. Kiev
6)  The human body's capacity to digest incredible amounts of carbs
7) Reece James' right foot
8) Thierry Henry's searing words against Man Utd 
9) The smell of Pumpkin Bread that is floating through the air as I write this
10) Nana Potter (@nanakweso9), for retweeting our twitter posts all the time

This weekend, to get into the Halloween spirit, the lads decided to pay a visit to the local hand reader. Maybe we wanted a little spook, maybe we wanted some insight into our futures to calm some anxieties, but I don't think we were ready for the experience we had. 

Purple neon lights surrounded the doorway as we were ushered up into the attic. The palm reader, an older heavy-set women with piercing eyes and bushy eyebrows slowly lead the way, the heap of jewelry she dawned jingling heavily. At the top of the stairs she spun around, and directed us to a dimly lit table in the corner. 

Max was brave enough to go first. The woman's long claw-like fingernails traced the grooves of Max's hand. Chimes rung in the background as the woman laid down her first prophesy of the night: "The burden of facing your family's cursed past has fallen upon your shoulders. In due time, you shall be visited by the kin of a past enemy, and a fierce battle of revenge and survival shall take place." Max laughed nervously as he sunk back into his chair. 

Harry's palm opened next. The woman's eye's closely followed her claw as she read into Harry's future. "One... two... no... three" the woman murmured. "Young man your future is fraught with death. In the next five rotations of the moon, three souls, some close some far from you, will have their date with the hooded one." Harry smiled, but there was a slight flicker of fear in his eyes. 

Thomas at last leaned forward, offering his hand up as if for sacrifice. The woman immediately gasped, and pushed his hand away violently. "The Great Dark Omen" she whispered sharply. "Something worse than death awaits you on the other side of the bridge." This is all she revealed, and Thomas sunk back into his chair.

After a short while, the woman leaned back in, "Now, let me see one hand from each of you, as your lives are intertwined like the braids of Måhelgda." Hands pressed together over the table, the woman retrieved a teapot from under the table and poured warm, brown liquid over our hands. Clasping our wet hands in hers, the woman leaned forward and spoke these words: "You will correctly guess the substitutes of the upcoming Chelsea Malmo match in your most recent episode of Box to Box." With the last word, the woman faded into nothing.

Ingredients:

• 5 peaches , peeled, cored and sliced (about 4 cups)
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

For the batter:

• 6 Tablespoons butter
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 cup milk
• ground cinnamon

Instructions:

1. Add the sliced peaches, sugar and salt to a saucepan and stir to combine.  
2. *(If using canned peaches, skip steps 1 & 2 and follow the directions starting at step 3) 
3. Cook on medium heat for just a few minutes, until the sugar is dissolved and helps to bring out juices from the peaches. Remove from heat and set aside. 
4. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Slice butter into pieces and add to a 9x13 inch baking dish. Place the pan in the oven while it preheats, to allow the butter to melt. Once melted, remove the pan from the oven.
5. In a large bowl mix together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the milk, just until combined. Pour the mixture into the pan, over the melted butter and smooth it into an even layer. 
6. Spoon the peaches and juice (or canned peaches, if using) over the batter. Sprinkle cinnamon generously over the top.
7. Bake at 350 degrees for about 38-40 minutes. Serve warm, with a scoop of ice cream, if desired.

10,000 years ago, humankind roamed the land we stand on today and hunted wild, vicious animals and scavenged for food to sustain small tribes. 5,000 years ago humans tilled the North American land, growing early strains of corn, working most of the year to harvest cobs with 8 kernels to prepare for the harsh winter. 200 years ago, settlers in the southwest corner of Lake Michigan forged a new city, rapidly constructing railroads and telegraph poles in the hopes of creating an economic hub for a fast growing nation. 100 years ago, laborers worked long hours at the stock yards, butchering live stock and exporting food goods in the most efficient way the world had ever seen. 50 years ago, humankind in this area looked to the skies, and with the threat of deathly falls, molding steel beams together to reach heights no human construction had ever reached before. 

And today, 3 brave young men are forging the next great achievement in the long history of this land. Their voices travel the globe, opening minds and tugging at hearts, breaking down the physical and political barriers between humankind. Will this podcast usher in a new era of world peace? Will it be wielded as a powerful geo-political tool for world supremacy? Only the future will tell, but for now let's have a little chat about Ole Gunnar Solskjær. 

The year is 2645. The passing of time is now only marked by new Box to Box episodes coming out every hour, streamed to the consciousness of every being left on the planet. The episodes are an hour long. Max, Harry, and Thomas are long dead, yet the episodes keep coming. Artificial intelligence scrapes the large catalogue of recordings they left behind, creating infinite sentences from their voices. Soccer is not played anymore. Once kings of the European soccer podcasting scene in Singapore, their words are now jumbled to spread propaganda. The city state of Johannesburg is “out of form”, the Iberian Peninsula is “static and flat”, the Glorious Empire of Nova Scotia “parks the bus”. Yet, these civilizations have too died out many years ago. The zombie like creatures that still exist hug the poles of the planet for there is the only livable land to inhabit. With no potential for a future, human existence has broken down. The men, women, and children lay on the barren soil, eat the protein bars rationed for them, and await the end of time with the sweet sweet words of …. “Welcome back Boxers to another episode of ….”

For our 10TH Episode we're giving out 10 free signed pictures of waveforms of us saying "Box to Box". All you need to enter is to walk around your city block , suburban street, or rural road this Sunday (10/10) for 10 hours, and tell every 10th person you see about Box to Box (It can be good or bad, but you have to say "Box to Box: A Chelsea FC and Bayern Munich Podcast to every 10th person).

The first 10 people to finish the task will win the signed waveforms!!!

Note: Rest periods are allowed, but only 10 minutes of rest for every hour of walking. Compliance is assured by the chips implanted in your head at birth and recently activated by listening to this episode of Box to Box. Good Luck.

The lads extend out deepest apologies to all the Boxers out there for not uploading this episode on our usual upload schedule. We here at Box to Box understand that our listeners have weekly routines, and if we wish to be a part of that routine we must be consistent in our uploads. For what its worth, we’d like to provide an explanation for our tardiness this week, and ask for your forgiveness. See, what happened was, the lads finished recording their episode on Wednesday, and as I was uploading the episode to the various podcast outlets, I received a message from the FBI requesting my presence at the nearest FBI outpost. To apply pressure onto my arrival, they locked my computer, and I was unable to complete the upload process. The following events I am not allowed to describe in detail, but I will reveal what I can to our loyal Boxers, as you deserve an answer. Due to my unique position as a member of the 93rd best soccer podcast in Singapore, I was selected for a secret mission to spread pro-American propaganda in the country. As you might conclude from this upload coming 4 days after the FBI meeting, I refused to betray my listeners in Singapore and am now in hiding from the U.S. government. While some in my situation might put watching soccer lower on their priority lists, I vow to continue to watch Chelsea and Bayern religiously, and spread the word of my insights to all across the globe. 

Signed, 

Anonymous Box to Box member. 

The scene opens up to a brick fireplace, a couple logs crackling from the soft flames. The camera pans out to a cozy study, a dark coffee stained wood table sits on an intricately woven maroon rug. The exposed brick of the fireplace dawns the entire back wall, covered with retro football memorabilia. A signed Peter Osgood Chelsea kit hangs beside a framed picture of Gerd Muller holding the Meisterschale. An elderly man sits in a worn leather chair beside the fire. Closing his book, the man removes his spectacles and peers up.

Elderly Man: Oh now now, come near and listen here, for I have something to show you dear.

The man leans forward towards the coffee table, and fiddles with the knobs of the large wooden cube that is his radio. Soon, the Box to Box theme music crackles through the tired speakers.

Elderly Man: I've heard it here first, in my quaint and humble abode, the men with the knowledge to me they've bestowed. And now I wish to divulge, the secrets of these fellows, they make me want to scream, they make me want to bellow. For their understanding, of this beautiful game, is like none of the others with great acclaim. Their insight is pure, their words ring true, so listen here, you might learn a thing or two.

"Welcome back everyone to Box to Box, we are ready to....