I remember 2017 like it was yesterday, even though we’re already in 2026 and half these players are now pundits. That autumn, my Fantasy Premier League team had one giant Belgian-shaped albatross around its neck. Romelu Lukaku was supposed to be the royalty of my forward line – the most-selected player in the whole game, a guarantee of returns. I had him from pre-season, basking in the warm glow of those early 70 points. But did you feel the tremor too? Every week, I’d see my mini-league rival inching closer, his team glowing with a different kind of red: the Egyptian fireball Mohamed Salah.
At first I laughed.
Lukaku’s ownership was 48%, still the king. Salah was just a hot patch, I told myself. Then the numbers started doing a tap dance I couldn’t ignore. Salah’s ownership vaulted from 32.7% to 44.5% in a single month — basically a premier league transfer market panic in digital form. Meanwhile, Lukaku’s managers were deserting him in droves, 10% gone over the same period. The Press Association had even invented something called a “heat score” to measure this exodus, and Lukaku was chilling at -17.3, one of the coldest properties in FPL. The only names icier were his teammate Henrikh Mkhitaryan (-35.5, yikes), Dele Alli, and Javier Hernandez. I still won't forgive Mkhitaryan for that.
And Salah? He was a heat score furnace at 39.7, second only to City’s Leroy Sane at a blistering 46.9. Every time I refreshed my transfers, I could see the numbers swinging. It was like watching a tide turn while your flip-flops are stuck in the sand. I eventually caved – screamed “it’s time!” at my laptop, and hit the transfer button. The relief was immediate.
But really, the chaos wasn’t just about big names. The true poets of FPL that season were wearing claret and blue. Burnley's backline became the stuff of legend. Stephen Ward – a £5m full-back! – was rampaging with a goal and an assist, 61 points by late 2017. He even had a heat score of 31.5, which was absurd for a defender. And he wasn’t alone: Matt Lowton and Ben Mee both had 51 points, and goalkeeper Nick Pope had swooped in with 53 points in just eight-and-a-half games after Tom Heaton’s injury. All of them £4.6m. I still giggle when I think of my mate who triple-captained Lukaku while I was rolling in budget clean sheets.
Up front, the simulation gods were handing out dream scripts. Manchester City were projected to rake in a gob-smacking 7.88 points from a trinity of fixtures: Huddersfield, Southampton, and West Ham (who were given a 25-1 shot to win at the Etihad). That made Sane almost a cheat code, but his only hot-list companion in the City squad was Fernandinho. While everyone scrambled for the German winger, I started sniffing around Raheem Sterling, Gabriel Jesus, and Kyle Walker — guys who were about to explode and still slightly under the radar. It felt like insider trading, but legal.
Then there was poor Huddersfield. Jonas Lossl had gifted managers 56 points at that £4.6m sweet spot, but a 4-goal shellacking by Bournemouth and a fixture list featuring City, Arsenal, and Everton sent his projection plunging to 1.32 points over the next three. Burnley’s defence, by comparison, hummed along at 2.59 — not stellar, but enough to trust. Even Everton and Bournemouth were offering sweet spot options like Leighton Baines and Charlie Daniels, with Callum Wilson waiting in the wings. Oumar Niasse would have been the cheekiest pick if he hadn't earned himself a two-match ban for simulation. Ah, Niasse. FPL broken hearts come in all forms.
Looking back from 2026, it’s hilarious how much sweat poured into a team that 99% of the world forgot. But that’s why Fantasy Premier League is eternal. It transforms forgotten Burnley defenders into folk heroes, turns a seven-point projection into a prayer, and makes you drop a £100m striker for a winger you couldn't spell two months earlier. I'm still making the same mistakes today — just last week I triple-captained a guy who got a red card in the ninth minute. Some things never change. But at least now I know: when the heat score slides, don't just walk away. Run. Preferably towards an Egyptian king.
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