This has never happened to me before. Never before has Nuffle, that most glorious of all gods, He on high, He of the Bloody Studs, He of the Golden Balls, deserted me so utterly.

My petulant response I now regret. I understand that neither my opponent's style, nor my actions mattered. I understand that the Elves were cursed. I loved that team, but I now understand that Nuffle could not allow it to survive. With a mere seventeen games under their belt, they had built strongly, gaining few ordinary skills. Instead, they had collected a plethora of doubles and stat increases, including a strength four catcher and two agility 5 elves. Clearly this kind of luck had insulted the mighty God.

Even more clearly, I must rededicate myself to Nuffle, regain my humility and devotion.

So, although my first impulse is to alter my match report - in my newfound humbleness, I find myself ashamed of its petulant, self-serving nature. However, in my devotion to Nuffle, I find myself unable to erase my mistakes, and must instead apologise. I prostrate myself before Him and ask for His forgiveness.

My elves have gone, have left the building. But my desire to play remains. I will make my sacrifices and oblations. Having consulted with the oracles, I now understand that the aerial play of the elves does not please Nuffle in this quarter, for the moon is in ascendant, and Jupiter in is decline. Therefore, I have begun a new project. Nuffle's blessing may be in doubt, but hobgoblins are stupid, and Chaos Dwarves have thick skulls.

In His honour, I give you the Gold Minors