Just for once, I’m going to indulge myself this morning. Much as I’ve tried to find some contentious issues amongst the team sheets, I’ve struggled to surface any real worries to haunt us going into the 11.30 deadline.

There are few questions left unanswered – yes you probably need Wayne Rooney or Robin Van Persie, maybe both. While neither myself, or the good men of the press, feel that Jonny Evans will be fit to start on Sunday. Unless there was mind games at play. Unless Sir Alex now has his young centre-back down as a crucial joker in the pack, a trump card to be played close to his chest. As Ferguson said, “unlikely”.

The only real conundrum in front of the United boss, and us Fantasy managers, concerns the United wingers (again). Having dumped Antonio Valencia at the Etihad, what route does Ferguson take for the must-win at home to Swansea?

Across the press it seems a given that Valenica will make a return. Only the Guardian keep the Ecuadorian on the timber, starting with a Nani/Ashley Young combination on their flanks. Intriguingly, they’re the only paper to offer Nani hope of a start: the rest opt for Young in tandem with Valencia. Personally, I feel Nani’s goal power gives him the edge other both his rivals: United need to win and Nani is their most direct player, offering the bigger goal threat of the three from out wide.

So there you go then. We can sit back and let the deadline pass and get ready to settle down for the season showpiece. No really.

I’m pretty sure that FA Cup final day used to rival Christmas in our house. The BBC made a grand meal of it and I lapped it up like a deprived moggy. Live football was novelty enough, but this was a whole day of build up, including a Cup Final Question of Sport and a camera on the team bus watching Steve Foster playing cards with Jimmy Case. Blissful times.

Nowadays we’ll probably get Jamie Redknapp in a cling film grey suit and a load of jazzy graphics played over the XX. It doesn’t feel the same.

Of course, the magic has gone because I’ve been spoiled. I’ve got live football coming out of my Sky Plus sponsored ears. I don’t need a spy-cam in the team buss, I can go on Twitter if I want to peer into the unmagnificent lives of the modern footballer. Ten minutes of that and I miss Steve Foster’s headband that little bit more.

Don’t get me wrong, I really hope the Wembley final is a spectacle. It just feels sad that, as a neutral, the overexposure has killed the thrill of what used to be a grand event. The same thing happens if you watch too much porn. Apparently.

There’s more live football on the schedule next season. That’s all good; they can keep pushing Jamie Redknapp’s inappropriate trousers our way. Thankfully, we’ve got Fantasy Football to liven things up.

Enjoy the Gameweek.