So here it is, the final Gameweek of the season and, in keeping with tradition, the Preamble post-mortem.

Looking back over this article for the past two seasons offers a very stark contrast in my mood. My last campaign was my best, following on from my worst in eight years.

That cursed 2013/14 season will remain as the blot on my career copybook as, thanks to a late flurry of green arrows, I’ve managed to rescue a degree of respectability from this campaign.

Like many around these parts, I’ve suffered a most uncomfortable ride – I’ve enjoyed few highlights, having spent most of the season desperately waiting for a turning point that never really arrived.

Admittedly I was on Sergio Aguero’s Gameweek 8, while the Chips provided a late boost which should ensure a top 30k finish.

That’s a rather humble list of achievements in what is my tenth season playing Fantasy Premier League.

It’s too easy to blame myself. That would be the noble thing to do but I’m not accepting that.

Instead I’ll take it out on Riyad Mahrez and Jamie Vardy for deliberately going out of their way to deliver stellar returns that belied their lowly price tags. I could have reacted quicker and shown some faith, but clearly, week upon week of goals and assists didn’t make it obvious enough.

Then there’s Eden Hazard. I spent the summer coveting the Player of the Year, convinced that he’d kick on and justify his inflated price tag and, although he was patently awful from the get-go, I was hoodwinked by him.

He cunningly seduced me with last season’s showreel to convince me to get him back in Gameweek 7, when I should have jumped on the assist and bonus machine that was Mesut Ozil.

Then there’s Sadio Mane and Andre Ayew. That pair stuck around in my squad for weeks while Ozil casually conjured points from all angles. I hung on to Mane expecting explosions that never arrived, while Ayew did just enough to keep me interested, without ever delivering on his promise.

I could have acted – recognised that neither Mane nor Ayew would deliver the consistency offered by Ozil and then Payet. However, I’m not buying it; I was totally flawless in my assessment: I was a sorry victim of their failure.

Don’t talk to me about Aleks Kolarov either. Somehow he wheedled his way into my squad for two matches, failed to turn up and then, when I ushered him back out, he mocked me with 30 points in the next five Gameweeks.

Clearly I could blame myself for refusing to learn my lesson and yet again putting trust in the flighty full-back, but it’s patently obvious that the man is on some personal crusade to ruin my Fantasy seasons. If he’s really that determined, I’m somewhat helpless.

In fact, none of this my fault. Fantasy Football is far easier to play when you refuse to blame yourself. It’s when you start taking responsibility for every errant transfer and foolhardy captaincy; that’s when the trouble starts. That’s when you realise she’s left home and taken her half of the Sky TV fee with her.

It can’t be done, though. I’m far too invested to have any hope of convincing myself that I’m blameless for an all too mediocre campaign.

But without that investment, there is no joy in what we do.

We have to risk putting ourselves through the anguish of making errors to experience the highs of claiming unexpected points from the most unlikely source. Then we have to do our best to stop looking smug about it.

I struggle with that. Fortunately, my opportunities to get found out have been limited this season.

Maybe next season.