Lush Gutters

On August 3rd 2022 – approximately forty-eight hours before the new season of the English Premier League – Leicester City sold Kasper Schmeichel. The ramifications would be catastrophic.

What Aiyawatt Srivaddhanaprabha and Brendan Rodgers couldn’t possibly have known was that their actions would kickstart a series of events that would cost me the first game of the ProMax Classic Grand.

If they’d have known they never would have went through with it.

Every action…

The seeds had been sown weeks earlier.

About two weeks earlier I’d decided it was time to bite the bullet and sort out my fantasy team. After organising the outfield, my attention was inevitably drawn to my goalkeeper.

We all know the drill by now: only the masochists decide to pick two starters and turn each week into something akin to an nerve-shredding, high-stakes final round of Deal or No Deal. In addition, many managers find wasteful the idea of paying more than 8.5mil for both keepers. There’s just not much of a meaningful difference between any of them: last season, more points separated superstars Mo Salah and Harry Kane than top scoring keeper Allison and literally any of the other consistent first-choice stoppers, even those at relagated clubs. Meanwhile the money saved could be enough to turn that centre-half into a wingback. 0.5mil is some serious wonga. It could be the difference between Calum Chambers and Oleksandr Zinchenko. These details matter.

So I’d initially gone cheap with Brentford’s David Raya, mostly out of laziness. A lot of the FPL articles online were name-checking him, and Brentford’s early schedule wasn’t the worst. But then I noticed something.

My eyes darted over to the Premier League’s goalkeeping glitterati, and … the prices seemed to be oddly low: in previous years you were looking at six million for the cream of the crop, but this year… look at these bargains! 5.5m for Allison, only five million for Benjamin Mendy… it just seemed too good to be true! I started salivating. I spotted Ederson, joint winner of last year’s golden gloves; sure enough, he was only 5.5. The idea of keeping twenty clean sheets in a season entranced me like a hypnotist’s wristwatch. Raya had scored sixty fewer points in FPL the previous year – a colossal difference among the keepers. Sure, Ederson practically never gets bonus points – he nabbed only four for the whole of last season – but the Brazilian is a player you could just plug in and leave running in the background. He was worth it simply for the peace of mind.

I’d been otherwise unable to find a way into the City defence without unacceptable compromises. So I pounced. I wouldn’t be the only one.

The Alternate

With that sorted I turned to my back-up slot. They’ll need to bring a book.

Having splashed out on one brand-name goalie there was nothing for it but to sift through the bargain bin for the other. Since no keeper at 4mil is a starter, many players opt to go for whoever is back-up to their number one pick, safeguarding against the need to use a transfer if their first-choice gets hurt. That right there is sound advice, so I went with Stefan, City’s reserve goalie. If Ederson pulls up lame, Stefan will ride to the rescue!

And that was that! Feeling mightily content with these arrangements, my attention turned to other areas. Son or Kane? James or Perisic? Will Darwin see much game time? Decisions, decisions.

When a butterfly flaps its wings…

With two days to go, tragedy struck, though I would not know it at the time.

The news came out of the blue; Leicester City’s talismanic title-winner and club captain Kasper Schmeichel was buggering off to France. Somewhere nice, apparently.

Initially this didn’t fase me. Sure, it’s a shame to see him go; he was a phenomenally talented stopper and the Premier League will be poorer without him. But it hadn’t altered my plans. After countless revisions my team was finally set. Done. No more changes.

The day came, and with about twenty minutes until the teams were locked in for the start of gameweek one I made a fateful decision. I looked at my phone. There was a message.

It was from Jessi. He wants to know how I’m shaping up.

Now, Jessi and I often run our ideas by each other. We know each other well enough to know that our teams will never be alike; I’m a manager who likes to mingle superstars with budget picks, whereas Jessi is a frugal hipster-ish mid-maxer who hates big names and loves cash in the bank. We’re as likely to steal each other’s ideas as we are each other’s toothbrushes. Consequently we feel safe asking for, and offering, advice.

I showed him my team, then he showed me his. No Mo. No de Bruyne. No Son.

F**king mug. I’m surprised the site even lets you do that.

But then I noticed his second choice keeper: Leicester’s Danny Ward.

All of a sudden a lightbulb went off. Of course! With Schmeichel gone, Ward will be the Foxes’ first choice, at least until they buy someone else! That’s a starting goalkeeper for only four million! Jessi, you magnificent bastard!

Now I know earlier I said it wasn’t wise to select two starting keepers. But even when picking a player you think you’ll never use, it’s still – if possible – best to select someone who will get at least some game time. There’s always the potential, however unlikely, that you’ll need those subs, and even a single point is better than a guaranteed zero. Since any 4mil keeper that gets a prolonged run-out is sure to see his value increase, I’d have been mad not to pick Ward. So I hoofed out Stefan and popped in Danny boy. Jessi won’t mind. It’s not like it’s going to matter in the grand scheme of things.

The story should end there. But then I had a bright idea.

Don’t Ever Think

I double-checked the fixtures. All was not as it had initially seemed. Ederson’s Manchester City faced a tough opener at the London Stadium. Their last three visits had yielded zero victories. This isn’t the West Ham of your older brother. Moyes’ outfit are a good team, make no mistake. They’d led 2-0 in last season’s corresponding fixture. City had looked pretty sluggish in the 3-1 Community Shield defeat to Liverpool a week ago, too. They do have a habit of starting slow…

Meanwhile, Leicester were due to entertain Brentford at the King Power. After a bright start to 2021/22, the Bees were in freefall until a resurrected (quite literally) Christian Eriksen – by a million miles the highest-profile player Brentford will ever possess – arrived in West London to turn their fortunes around. But he’s gone now. Second season syndrome is sure to kick in. And Leicester, for the first time in living memory, have a fully fit squad.

I glanced at my team sheet. An idea started to form. I shouldn’t. I can’t.

If it came off I’d look like a genius.

…

… be brave, Max.

…

Alright, let’s do it. Ward in, Ederson out.

Cometh the hour

Come Sunday morning I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself.

With three fixtures left I was sitting in my usual spot atop the ProMax World Championship. Everything was coming up Selby. Captain Mo delivered. Nunez over Kane… vindicated! James over Perisic… vindicated! Son over Sterling… vindicated! I realise the FPL is a marathon and not a sprint, and next week could very quickly wipe the smile off my face, but immediate results are always gratifying. It wasn’t all sunshine and laughter; I’d wrestled with ditching Odegaard for Martinelli, but had stuck with the former, who blanked, over the latter, who scored. Still, mustn’t grumble, you’re not gonna get every call right. Looking at the league table was still a mighty pretty sight.

Things were faring even better in the Classic Grand. My opponent Kelly Worthington, perennial World Championship runner-up and new to the head-to-head format, was floundering with the second lowest score of all. She did still have her three city assets to play, mind you, including her captain, Erling Haaland. However, she had 34 points to make up. She’d need at least a couple from Haaland, and a contribution from Kevin de Bruyne, and a clean sheet to boot. Even all that might not be enough, just as long as Ward does what I need him to.

He does not.

Leicester, 2-0 up, hold out until just shy of the hour mark before Ivan Toney bundles in. Twenty minutes later Josh Da Silva levels the game. It ends 2-2. Ward made a single save. I’d opened the box with 1p. Noel would be furious.

I now find myself confronted with my own idiocy; I’ve gone and left the back door open. I couldn’t have known who I’d be drawn against before everyone’s teams were locked in for gameweek one, nor that I’d be defending a lead with one fixture to go, but only a fool would have bet against my opponent having at least one City defender. It turned out I was one of only two managers that hadn’t selected Cancelo. Kelly is not that other person.

Still, it shouldn’t matter, right? With Ward’s extra point I find myself ahead of Kelly by thirty-five! Thirty-five! That’s only twelve points fewer than Amy’s whole team would get for the entire gameweek! Kelly needs a huge return! So much needs to go wrong. Haaland needs at least two! And City must keep a clean sheet.

Oh, god. If I’d left in Ederson, that City clean sheet would be irrelevant. If I’d left Ederson in, Haaland would have needed a hat-trick.

If I’d left Ederson in…

The Axe Falls

My opponent this week wasn’t Kelly. My opponent this week was the same person I play against every week. That person is Max Selby.

One game into the new Classic Grand season and I’d already played myself. Over the course of ninety, one-sided minutes in Stratford, London, my genius gamble from two days prior had revealed iself as the abject lunacy it had been all along. I’d missed some clues; over the last seven games of the previous campaign West Ham had taken only five points from a possible twenty-two. Their pre-season form had been pants, notching only a single win against Ipswich. On July 23rd, while Haaland was scoring the winner against Bayern at the Allianz, the Hammers were scraping a 1-1 draw at Luton Town’s Kenilworth Road. The signs were there.

I’d also overlooked another minor detail. If you peer reeeeeeally closely at the data, you can just about see that Manchester City are the reigning Premier League champions and arguably the greatest team the top flight has ever seen. It’s the small stuff, y’see.

And so I watched as West Ham suffered. They possessed the ball for only a quarter of the game. They had one shot on target. It did not go in.

Meanwhile, Erling Haaland, having been shite in the Community Shield, had a grand day out. He earned and converted a first-half penalty, before running on to a perfect through-ball to slot a simple second. You know who wears light-blue and plays perfect through-balls? Kelly knows.

By the full time whistle Haaland, her captain, had secured all three bonus points, doubled to six. Cancelo would get two of his own.

Oh, that last bonus point? That went to … get this … that went to a certain Ederson Santana de Moraes. He made as many saves as Ward had.

All that was left was the maths. De Bruyne’s assist gave him six. Add that to Cancelo’s seven, and to Haaland’s twenty-f**king-six, and you get thirty-nine. Kelly jumps from twenty-nine to sixty-eight. Thanks to Ward, I could only add a solitary point to my overnight sixty-three. I’d traded away the £250,000. If I’d left Ederson in, I would have won by two points.

If Leicester hadn’t sold Schmeichel, if the keepers had been priced the same as last year, if I hadn’t looked at my phone, if I hadn’t talked to Jessi.

If, and if, and if….

…

I haven’t missed Fantasy Football.