Relishing a results-rich run of form,
I set off for The Centre full of gorm;
throughout the evening I would not be ruth,
my killer instinct sometimes wanes, in truth.
My tactics in each contest would be ept
and focused concentration would be kept,
I would move in a chalant, gainly way
as list and ert invigorate my play.

Then ugly gruntlement struck as before:
how could I know what the fates held in store?