The Perfect Game

I opened an empty locker in the Central Park locker room and a Genie appeared. He said to me, I've been trapped in this locker for a thousand years. For releasing me, I will grant you any wish. I looked at the Genie, thinking of the smells he must have experienced in a thousand years trapped in this locker room. I didn't hesitate. Genie, I want the perfect tennis game. I'm looking for something more than just a perfect backhand. I want a perfect forehand too. And then, I want a huge serve. I need to volley like a king. I want the perfect drop shot, for those special times. My service return had better be a monster, and off of both sides. The Genie looked at me and smiled. He granted me my wish. My name is Roger Federer.