This is Us (Being bad at Fantasy Football)

I'm writing this week's column on my own laptop. If that seems like the sort of information best left on the cutting room floor - the inclusion of which serves only as a damning indictment on the quality of the rest of this piece, then you're probably right. But it's important to me for two reasons: 

Firstly, for the last couple of weeks I've had to borrow my sister's computer and thus endure a garish screensaver slideshow dedicated to the every whim and fancy of the boys from One Direction. 

And secondly, because the only reason I got my laptop back at all was thanks to my grandfather. Though not a particularly technically-savvy man, he heard about my computer troubles and arranged to have somebody take a look at it. He then paid to have it fixed (knowing I couldn't afford to cover the myriad restorations it required) and dropped it to my house a couple of days later. He took delight in showing me all the new programs the repair man had installed on it, despite having not the slightest idea what most of them did, and left with a trademark wink to go meet my grandmother. 

The next day, as I was taking a walk in the triumphantly resurgent late-August sunshine, I got a phone call from my mother to say my grandfather had died quite suddenly.

 My last words to him were 'Thanks, granddad. Bye." 

In the unlikely event that any of you missed this column last week, then I do apologise. I thought I could get it written in time but everything soon got away from me. I have no doubt however that your fantasy football team is all the better for it. The last week has been revealing in so many ways; perhaps none more so than in highlighting the sheer ineptitude of my fantasy 'skills'. 

I currently languish in 765th place in the Extratime league, trying to convince myself that the possum is the finest combat strategist in the animal kingdom. But would a possum have started as poorly as I have? Most probably. But still... 

RVW did begin almost violently on message, opening his Norwich account with a lovely header, but I still found myself unplugging the internet modem just so I wouldn't play my wildcard halfway through the league's opening day. 

And I still haven't come to terms with Pablo Zabaleta's utter indifference to Frazier Campbell this past weekend which, given the week that's in it, was painfully reminiscent of every woman I asked to the Debs. At least Frazier Campbell scored. 

Simon Mignolet has been just about the only positive. But since he seems to have been the first entirely unanimous choice amongst fantasy players everywhere, that's been neutralised - both metaphorically and mathematically. 

The aforementioned Extratime league has, at time of writing, got a two-way tie at the top. Both Fergal Lambe and Richard Horgan have got 173 points from the opening two Gameweeks. So maybe you should all be listening to them? 

Or, at the very least, you shouldn't be listening to me. 

My one observation ahead of this coming Gameweek is that Fulham are now comfortably my favourite Premier League team and, though they are often turgid away from their quaint home, I fancy (or perhaps just really want) them to beat Newcastle.

Holding midfield may be the most obsolete position in fantasy football but I'm almost beginning to think that Scott Parker could be an exception to the rule, given that he's essentially been charged with doing the running of an entire forward line. Berbatov, Ruiz and Taraabt is a gorgeously lazy attacking force, and I couldn't be more supportive of this experiment - which will almost certainly end in the premature demise of Jol, and Parker - who has spent his career looking like he'd be more at home during the inter-war period, as a man and footballer. 

The very best of luck to you all - it appears you'll need it. 

Rest in Peace - Tony Drohan