Pick an end. Call the score. The match weaves itself around you — and the night is yours to keep.
Everything here is free, needs no account and no install, and rides alongside the game instead of competing with it.
One tap picks your end, one sets your scoreline, and a dial says how sure you are. That is your ticket — and it locks at kickoff, so it always means something.

Your end fills with real people, really counted — never padded. Cheer and the stand answers. When the game turns, say how it felt: six symbols, no words needed.





At the whistle the match you watched is a woven cloth carrying your side and your calls. One tap keeps it. Its picture is your actual night — not a template.

The market has a number. The crowd has a belief. The wire has the result. Each is recorded on its own clock, in its own units, and never mixed — so the distance between them can be measured at any second of the match.
Call the final score before kickoff, then keep calling while it plays — who scores next, or nobody. Every in-play call is stamped with the market's live price at that exact second, and settled by the next real event.
What it produces: an aggregate scoreline forecast per fanbase, not just win-draw-lose — and a moving version of it as the game runs. A bookmaker prices correct-score too; the difference here is who is answering: self-declared supporters of one side, for free, with nothing staked, timestamped before the outcome.
Live de-vigged win probabilities sit beside the crowd's number — visibly separate, never blended, never dressed up as each other. You can read the money's mind without ever placing a bet.
What it produces: the two readings side by side while the result is still unknown — where a fanbase sat above or below the price at kickoff, and how far apart they stayed as the game moved. The closing price is just the scoreline; the interesting part is everything before it.
Cheers are rate-honest — a tap is a tap, and loudness decays like real noise. Presence is counted, not estimated: who rooted for which end, when they arrived, how long they stayed.
What it produces: attendance and attention per fanbase, a per-minute loudness curve, and arrival waves — the shape of a crowd assembling around a game.
The stamp, every cheer, every reaction, every minute watched — and at full time, the bonus for calling it right, multiplied by how sure you said you were. Turning up is worth more than lurking.
What it produces: an engagement economy tied to real actions, with the night's totals and its top five sealed into the permanent record by serial — never by name.
The finished match is a woven cloth — the market's belief is the warp, the goals knot into it, your side frames the edge. Keeping it takes one tap and no account; saving it to a key of your own takes a face scan and no seed phrase.
What it produces: a durable record of what fans chose to preserve — which is its own signal about which moments mattered.
Every quantity in a match record has one definition, applied the same way every night. These are the ones worth naming.
The sum, across every price update in the match, of how far all three legs moved from the update before. A market that churns all night scores high; one that settles early scores low.
Any moment a leg has moved six points or more away from the last price the match kept as its reference. Compared across a rolling 75-second window, so it measures real movement rather than feed chatter.
How far the price sits from a completely undecided 33/33/33 line, measured on its widest leg — kept as both the average across the match and the peak.
How many times the favoured outcome changed hands over the match, counted on the price, not on the scoreline.
Per end: the share of that end's own calls that have their side winning, minus the market's probability of that side winning at the moment predictions locked. Positive means the stand believed harder than the money did.
Per end: how many people who chose that side did not call their own side to win — and, at full time, whether the doubters were right.
One minus the market's probability, at lock, of the result that actually happened. It scores a correct call by how unlikely the money thought it was.
25 for a locked call, one per granted cheer to a cap of 300, two per reaction, one per minute present to a cap of 130, and at full time 200 for the exact score or 75 for the right result — multiplied by the conviction dial, up to double.
A cheer scores when the rate limiter grants it. A reaction counts once per moment, however many times it is re-picked. Minutes are open presence. The crowd's numbers and the market's stay in their own units, side by side.
Every match crystallises into a single record within the minute of the whistle, and is sealed so it cannot be edited afterwards.
Opening, closing and per-phase belief, every swing with its trigger minute, volatility, conviction, the moments the price held its breath.
Consensus scoreline with its n, rooted counts per end, and the full histogram of every score anyone called.
What each end felt at each turning point, and the night's loudness curve sampled throughout.
Fans, cheers, reactions, minutes watched, arrival waves and points — by serial number, never by identity.
No token, no wager, nothing to trade. A sealed record proves the night's data existed and that every claim in it was made before the outcome arrived — which is what makes a fan's keepsake theirs rather than a screenshot.