After a day of ill-advised excess, it feels uncomfortable to put my Boxing Day mood in the hands of a bunch of twenty-something millionaires and their tinkering managers, no doubt currently toying with teamsheets.
Sitting here this morning, considerably slowed and bloated by the previous day’s intake, I’m looking around my Fantasy dressing room and wondering just how many of my squad will have kept their discipline; how many have it them to perform today. Andy Carroll has me worried.
Having brought him in ahead of Charlie Austin with disastrous effects last week, I could always show him the door. There are clear options: Christian Benteke, Olivier Giroud even the regression back to Wilfried Bony.
Such a move is further down my list of priorities, however. I’ve got over five million in the bank and I’m keen to invest that in midfield to beef up the bench. While, at the back, I’ve got Yun laid up and Kyle Bartley about to embark on a 10-week Liam Moore impression.
Carroll might have to stay and get the opportunity to put the frighteners on the Chelsea, Arsenal and West Brom defences over the next three, then. Besides, having made his own special happy Christmas announcement, I’m sure he’s bursting to get the opportunity to perform a cheeky custom goal celebration – that might just have been enough to keep him off the sauce.
Let’s face it, we’ve all got a midfield minefield to navigate today. Eden Hazard is still uncertain to start with Jose giving us nothing to go on and there’s understandable talk of Alexis Sanchez being rested. If I neglect this area, there’s every chance I’ll be short with Georgie Boyd given a run-out. George does his bit but, with Granville now just a couple of points behind, I’ve got to take action.
I’ve not made the final decision as yet – that’s partly due to yesterday’s fizzy wine diet, and partly because I’ve got to consider keeping my cards closer to my chest. Granville and Austin teamed up nicely to make it a contest, now I’ve got to find my “game face”.
I’m not sure what that looks like: I’m hoping it’s a disheveled, unshaven, middle-aged man with bloodshot eyes; otherwise I’m in trouble.
