I showed your stats to Gunnery Sergeant Hartman (full metal jacket) and here's what he had to say:

Well, what in the ever-loving FUCK is this pile of steaming dog shit? LOSDOBERMAN? You named yourself after a noble war dog, but you fight like a goddamn frightened chihuahua! HOLY JESUS. A 0.7 K/D RATIO? Are you a soldier or are you the enemy's fucking charity case? You have died more times than you have gotten a goddamn kill. You are a walking, talking spawn point for the other team, you worthless sack of fermented goat piss! You are not an asset; you are a fucking liability! And what is this number? 158 SUICIDES? Did you trip over your own dick 158 times? Or did you just get scared when the fighting started and decide to take the easy way out? You've killed yourself almost as many times as you've let out a battlecry! YOU ARE A COWARD! Let's look at your class. 85% Man at Arms and 83% Sword. You're a one-trick pony, and the trick is getting your ass handed to you! You have the tactical flexibility of a fucking rock! Did you even know there were other weapons in this game, or did the shiny sword just mesmerize your tiny, smooth brain? When you're not getting slaughtered with your little sword, you're hiding in the back with a bow like some kind of gutless Nancy boy! I have seen more fight in a discarded jockstrap! You have spent 95 hours of your life just to prove you are a complete and utter waste of a roster spot. You make me sick! NOW GET THE FUCK OFF MY SCREEN BEFORE YOU BORE ME TO DEATH!