For all the fuss surrounding my early Wildcard, I can’t help but think that it’s triggered a change in fortunes.

I talked myself out of moves for Paul Pogba, Sadio Mane and Sergio Aguero either back then, or in the weeks that followed.

So I’ve managed to slalom their red flags and, while I’m hardly travelling up the ranks at pace, I’ve at least remained on course without disruption.

I’m not counting Phil Jones.

Following last night’s revelation that he’s checked in at the team hotel – which I’m reliably informed indicates that he’s in the matchday squad – it appears that he’s available to Jose Mourinho.

Whether he plays is another matter, Jose clearly has an agenda here, most likely to plot Jones’ extraction from England’s internationals, or at least convince Gareth Southgate to curtail his minutes. We shall see how that unfolds but, for me, Jones looks set to start, meaning that I’ve avoided another potential absentee.

Others haven’t been so lucky.

And that’s what it is: pure misfortune that can administer cruel and damaging blows to our season.

Nobody could have foreseen the injury – now apparently long-term – for Paul Pogba. Sadio Mane’s high-kicking jinx were uncharted, and Thursday’s injury to Aguero is just plain freakish, an almost unbelievable chain of events.

When I woke yesterday morning, I struggled to fathom what was being reported back. I imagine Pep Guardiola felt much the same.

I’ve read and heard that Pep won’t expect an apology for Aguero’s decision to take himself to Amsterdam. That’s understandable: it was the player’s free time and, after all, relief at his safe return is the priority.

But it certainly didn’t come across that way in his press conference.

Defensive in the extreme, Pep’s mood was dour and stormy, his treatment of the press bordering on unreasonable. It was all kinds of uncomfortable.

Pep doesn’t have much of a poker face: it’s very clear when he feels events have gone against him, or he’s been crossed.

While Aguero’s accident was completely unforeseen, his manager appeared frustrated and ready to throw blame, he struck out with his responses as if he had been wronged not by the finger of fate, but by something more tangible.

It was a slip of the veil, another peak into his seemingly volatile personality and it did little to convince me to start investing my trust in Pep, no matter how many goals his team are capable of scoring.

But then perhaps I need to relax my own principles. Sometimes my likes and dislikes steer my decision making a little too much.

When a player delivers for me, winning my favour, I can become blinkered.

Harry Kane is a case in point. Just like Mauricio Pochettino, I think I’ve developed a man-crush on the Spurs goal machine.

After he lifted my spirits with a brace a West Ham, I have vividly imagined another big haul at Huddersfield and felt compelled to back him with my captaincy.

But, since last nights dabble into the cold hard numbers and, in particular, Crystal Palace’s obvious frailties, I’ve challenged that thinking and changed tact.

A frosty Pep reminded me that sometimes it’s best to keep the emotion in check and let head rule heart.