It was nine minutes past nine o'clock in London yesterday evening when, deep into the fifth set of the Wimbledon gentlemen's final, Roger Federer eyed a short ball and prepared to hit his forehand, the sport's most dominant shot.

Instead of drilling it into the corner for a winner, as he's done countless times before, he went straight up the middle, directly at Rafael Nadal, his shot landing six inches beyond the baseline. Out. Nadal had secured a break and would hold his serve the next game to win the title, 6-4, 6-4, 6-7, 6-7, 9-7, in four hours and forty-eight minutes of spectacular tennis.

It was Federer's first loss at Wimbledon since 2002, and many have claimed this match marks a permanent change atop men's tennis. Personally, I'm not so sure: Nadal has yet to prove his body can take the pounding of a full year of tennis, and he normally breaks down at some point during the summer hardcourt or fall indoor seasons. I expect Federer to remain No. 1 for the rest of this year.

Nevertheless, the match was fascinating, suspenseful, exhilarating. It was so engaging to watch that, as a tennis fan, I was surprised when I had an odd feeling early in the fifth set, as night began to fall on London and clouds crept toward Centre Court.

I wanted it to rain, and I wanted the completion of the match to be pushed to Monday.

You should know that Monday finals are a disaster for everybody associated with tennis tournaments: the tournaments, the sponsors, the fans, the television partners. Nobody likes them. The last Monday Wimbledon final was broadcast on MSNBC, apparently because they couldn't possibly find a lower-rated news network on which to show the finals of an elite sporting event.

And yet, with the match moving toward conclusion, I started rooting for anything to stand in the way of that happening. And as the match reached 7-7 in the fifth set, I had a real chance: darkness wasn't far away, and just a couple more service holds (there hadn't been a break since the second set) would get us to Monday. Come on!

I should explain myself: We do work for the United States Tennis Association, and I'm always especially excited when we land a new USTA project. I've played tennis almost my entire life and have always loved the game.

You may have heard that tennis in America has seen better days: not only have other countries caught up (and in some cases passed) the U.S. on the court, but overall tennis interest isn't what it could be. While there are some positive signs, the conventional wisdom that is parroted so often in the media is that ratings are bad, the game has become too fast, and there are no compelling rivalries.

Even ESPN.com's Bill Simmons recently stopped writing about himself long enough to critique tennis, making a series of suggestions for improvement that ranged from the thoughtful (shorter sets, but more of them, thus increasing the number of important points) to the absurd (just about everything else in the column).

So here I was, watching one of the most exciting matches of my lifetime, hoping they'd stop playing and come back on Monday, when half of the country (including myself) would be at work. Why? Because I find myself constantly rooting for anything to make tennis more popular, to move it toward the front pages, to stand out among the entertainment options available to the average American. Once people are exposed to tennis, they'll love it, I reason.

I pictured Wimbledon being the No. 1 media story throughout Sunday evening and into Monday. And I thought of anxious coworkers huddling around the office TV early Monday morning, finding themselves caring about tennis for the first time in a long time. This, I thought, could be great for tennis.

But it wasn't to be. The greatest player of his generation couldn't find the court with his best shot, the sport's best shot, and the match ended with about 10 minutes of playable daylight remaining. And I'm left hoping that the overnight ratings were strong, so today's story isn't about how two great tennis players played an historic match but not enough people watched. Such is the life of a tennis fan.