In tennis, love means nothing.
Zero. No score. It’s the only sport that says it out loud, and it says it before every game starts. Two players walk on and the call is love all. Nobody has anything yet.
We named the whole thing after it.
You play for free
Someone hosts. Everyone else plays.
A host sets a pool up once. Every person they invite plays for nothing, all tournament, every round. No subscription. No entry fee. Nothing to cancel later.
When your club puts a board up, it costs you nothing to be on it. Love is zero, and you are literally playing for it.
Love what you play
Tennis, if tennis is your thing.
The same goes for the work you do, the thing you practise, the hobby you’re quietly serious about. Play the thing you’d still do if nobody was keeping score. That’s the only kind of playing that lasts.
Love who you play with
A pool is a group of people, not a leaderboard.
It’s your family arguing about a first round upset. Your club, all in on the same board. The friend who has picked the same player to win for nine years and will not be talked out of it. The rival you’ve never beaten and keep entering anyway.
The tournament gives you a reason to talk to them every day for two weeks. That’s the point of it.
Love why you play
Not for money. There isn’t any here.
For the fun of calling an upset before it happens. For the twenty seconds it takes to make a pick over coffee. For having something running in the background of a fortnight that would otherwise pass without you noticing.
You’re giving it your time. Time is the real entry fee, and it’s the only one we’ll ever ask for.
Love
That’s it. That’s the whole thing.