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It was a pretty nice day for September. I was playing the men’s singles final at my local tennis club. My name is Fred Perry. That is my actual name. And I play tennis. Pretty cool, right? For those of you who don’t know, Fred Perry was the last British male champion of Wimbledon back in the thirties. I have a feeling I was named after him seeing as though my dad’s a bit of a tennis enthusiast himself.

OK, I should probably get to the point here.

The guy I was playing against was called Ian. I would say we were friends. We’d played each other at tennis before, but just in friendly matches, and we got on quite well. He’d won the tournament the year before while I’d been away at University and it was going to be great to play competitively with him at last.

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