It’s here.

That moment when the RMTs suddenly slow to the steady drip of next week’s visionaries, how’s-it-looking in that hopeful, hypothetical stasis of nothing whatsoever changing between now and the conclusion of 900-plus minutes of football.

Fifteen weeks in and champions Liverpool are labouring under the Nike-to-Adidas kit-maker change curse, promoted Sunderland still bully big-six Goliaths, and our teams are still rife with premium blankers and an unpredictable parade of pound-shop points.

Fifteen weeks in, and our revered attacking defender of yore has been subsumed by a sea of DefCons. Yet even Leighton Baines would agree that this year’s defensive contribution debut beats the All Out Attack chip in terms of sheer fun factor.

And never mind the transfers, we’ve now got five free ones. But more importantly, between then and Monday, whether you’re at the ground, in the pub, behind the sofa or sipping coffee somewhere in the hinterlands of the International Date Line, may all your arrows be green.

I’ll be pondering the Free Hit I didn’t take, right up until kick-off.