Every format scored to the book, the cut carried round to round, the skins settled to the penny — and a live leaderboard on every phone at the tee.
| Pos | Player | Thru | To par | Total |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | A. Moore | 14 | −6 | — |
| 2 | M. Ellis | F | −4 | 140 |
| T3 | T. Brooks | 16 | −2 | — |
| T3 | D. Warren | F | −2 | 142 |
| 5 | A. Reid | 11 | E | — |
| 6 | S. Hayes | F | +2 | 146 |
A league night is not one competition. It is the match, the front nine, the back nine, gross and net — and a season table underneath all of it. TourneyHQ scores every one of them off the same cards.
A tied hole pays nobody and rolls into the next — which is why the 9th was worth three. The pot divides in whole cents, so it cannot pay out a penny more than went in, and nothing is settled on a hole nobody has finished.
And not every game is the club’s. Any fourball can run its own — their stake, their players, their pot — alongside the field’s, without the organizer setting it up and without the two ever touching. Whatever a player is in, it lands in the same one number at the end.
The championship off the blues, the seniors off the whites, the ladies off the reds. Set it once per division — not once per player — and the course handicap does the rest: the rating difference between two sets is exactly what makes them comparable.
A medal off the whites is a condition of competition, not a preference. Choose it and a player’s own stored tee cannot quietly override the committee.
A society that already knows what it plays off can pick for itself, and change it until a card is returned. Same scoring either way.
Each player’s tees are named beside them on the scorecard the group carries out — the set the round was actually scored from, not a second guess at it.
Not just after last night. Sides that missed a week are shown as having played fewer, never as having scored nothing — and two teams level share a place rather than being separated by the order they happen to sit in.
A scramble is not stroke play with fewer cards, and skins is not a total. Every format keeps its own engine — and all of them settle onto one leaderboard.
Singles and side formats, each scored by its own rules, then reconciled to a single set of standings.
Course handicap from the tee’s slope and rating, then the format’s allowance. Unrated tees say so.
One bracket, two flights, or a main draw with a plate. Seeded from live standings, byes handled.
Cuts and carry-forward apply as each round closes. When two rounds don’t measure the same thing, it says so first.
A round code puts a player on their card — no account, no install. Or keep the cards with your staff.
A public live leaderboard for the clubhouse screen and the players’ families — without a login.
The whole club, one tournament, a flight, a round, a side, your fourball, your match — or one player. Everyone sees only the conversations they’re actually in.
Players opt in or out on their own phone and the tee sheet fills from the answers — instead of a reply-all thread you have to count.
Entering somebody in a tournament adds them to the club list. Handicaps, tees and contact details carry to the next one — and a blank box never overwrites what you already had.
Look it up and its card and rated tee sets arrive with it. Where the public data can’t be trusted we say so and leave the card blank, rather than handing you a par nobody has played.
Your club’s mark at the head of it, the course leading, par and stroke index where you expect them — and the round’s format decides what it asks for: every hole, who won each one, or just the margin.
A club with a members’ roster, a society playing a different course each month, or four of you on a Saturday. Each gets the parts that apply and is never asked about the rest.
Field, flights, rounds and format. Running last year’s again? Copy it — configuration only, never the old results.
Scores from any phone at the tee, or entered by your staff. Standings update on every device as cards come in.
Brackets seeded, ties broken, payouts calculated. Export the lot, or publish a link for the clubhouse.
A member opens their phone on the first tee, not a manual. Their card, the board, what they owe, and whether they’re playing next week — and a round code gets them in with no account at all.
Hole by hole between shots, or the whole card to check against the paper one. No Save button — a Save button on a golf course is a round lost to a pocket.
Your own line sits above the board, so “where am I” is answered before a finger touches the screen — and the column says whether it is strokes, points or match play.
A league season on a calendar, not twelve identical rows. In, out, and — honestly — “in because nobody said otherwise”, which is a different promise.
Dinner, the carts, the skins and the closest-to-the-pin — added up into a single figure, with the parts shown so nobody has to take it on trust.
Splitting a bill is the easy half, and this does that too — but properly. A trip is a GROUP, not a fourball: everybody shares the rooms and the dinner, only the three who went to the bar share that, and only the four who rode in it share the cart. Every line carries its own people and its own weights, and nothing is forced into equal shares. The half that costs an evening is knowing the amounts — somebody has to work out that a player won three skins at $22.50, lost the front nine, and owes for a guest, then type it in. Here nobody types it. The golf money IS the card, and the trip and the competition net off into one balance and one handover.
Skins and the low-gross pot settle from the scorecards themselves. Closest to the pin and the long drive are typed in, because no card has ever recorded who was nearest the flag. Everything balances to the cent, and a pot nobody has won yet costs nobody anything.
Nobody turns up for the arithmetic. You should not be totting up skins in the car park or working out who owes whom before the bar closes — so here you don’t. Every stake, every pot, every shared cost and every payout is worked out from the cards as you play, and lands as one number per person. Nothing to reconcile afterwards, and no spreadsheet, chat thread or side app to keep in step.
Running a competition usually means a workbook for the field, a chat thread for who is in, a notes app for the skins and something else again to work out who owes whom. Every one of them is a place the numbers can disagree. Here they cannot, because there is only one set of them — and it is the set the round produced.
Entries, the roster, flights and the tee sheet — drawn from who actually said they were playing, not from a column somebody kept up to date by hand.
Every format on its own engine, handicaps to the book, and one leaderboard they all settle onto. No formula to copy down a column and no column to get wrong.
Frost delays, tee changes and the week’s question, sent to the club, a flight, a match or one player — so the thread nobody can search is not where the fixture lives.
Entry fees, skins, the pot and the side games added up together, settled to the penny, and reduced to the fewest handovers that square everybody.
TourneyHQ works out the money and keeps the record. It never holds it, moves it or takes a cut — what changes hands happens between the people it always did, and the app is the thing everybody agrees with rather than another account to reconcile.
No card to start, and nothing is charged through the app — TourneyHQ works out the money and keeps the record; what changes hands is arranged between you and us, and between your players and each other.
Text alerts, reading a photographed card, and drafted commentary are built and not switched on for anybody yet — they cost per message and per call, and we will not bill for them until they are worth it.
To the World Handicap System, from the tee’s own rating and slope and then the format’s published allowance — never the raw index. A 12.4 index off blue tees rated 71.5 / 140, playing four-ball at its 90% allowance, works out like this:
Done for every player, every round, the moment a card comes in. An unrated tee says so, in plain words, rather than quietly scoring off the raw index.
Copy it in a click. Every setting — flights, rounds, format, prizes — carries over to a fresh event; last year’s scores never do. Next season’s setup is a name and a date.
Invite assistants to score and manage alongside you — everyone works from the same live event, so the scoring desk and the first tee are never out of step.
Contact details never appear on the public leaderboard — it carries names and scores only, and nothing is visible at all until you choose to publish. Your roster stays yours.
A name is enough to start. Dates, course, the field and the format come after — and every one of them stays editable, right through the event.
Organizers create an event here; players invited to one sign in with the same box. A name is all it takes to start.
Log in to reach the tournaments you have access to.
Just the draw, the scores, and a leaderboard that was right all along.