What Do 15 and 30 Mean in Tennis? Tennis Scoring Explained for Beginners

Published on Jul 13

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What Do 15 and 30 Mean in Tennis? Tennis Scoring Explained for Beginners

Ever watched a tennis match and thought the scoring must be some kind of private joke? One minute, you hear "fifteen-love." Next, someone yells "thirty all." Yet, there’s not a single 15-point or 30-point play in sight. It sounds bizarre, but there’s actually a fascinating backstory. Tennis has one of the quirkiest point systems in sports, yet it’s been working for players and fans for centuries. Why do people talk about 15 and 30, and how did this strange system stick around—and confuse so many newcomers?

The Mystery Behind Tennis Numbers: Where Do 15 and 30 Come From?

If you’ve ever tried explaining tennis scoring to someone (or even your own dog—I swear Ace barely even twitches an ear), it goes like this: players start a game at zero, but zero gets called "love." Win a point and you’re at "15." Another point? "30." Get one more? Jump to "40." Bag the next point and you’ve taken the game—unless there’s a tie at 40 (called "deuce"), but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

So why 15, 30, and 40? The leading theory dates all the way back to medieval France, where a clock face was used to keep score: each point moved the hand a quarter around the face—15, 30, 45, and 60 being a winning game. Over time, though, 45 got shortened to 40 for easier announcing. Imagine calling out "forty-five" over and over during a tie—your throat would be as dry as a Sydney summer. Some historians believe it was just easier to say "quarante" (French for 40) instead of "quarante-cinq" (French for 45). The clock face theory isn’t just speculation either; early tennis courts often had clocks nearby, and the scoring lines up with old French language tennis records.

The zero being called “love” isn’t about affection or sportsmanship. It actually comes from the French word "l’oeuf," which means egg—because, well, a zero kind of looks like an egg. Over the centuries, "l’oeuf" was mangled by English speakers into "love." Fun fact: different sports sometimes call zero by food-names, too—"duck" in cricket, anyone?

How the Scoring System Actually Works During a Game

If you've seen tennis on TV here in Sydney—say, at the Australian Open—or played a few rounds with mates, you'll have heard the numbers in rapid-fire: "fifteen-love," "thirty-fifteen," or "deuce." But what’s actually happening as the score ticks up?

Each game begins with both players at zero. Under tennis rules, whoever wins the point first gets 15. The next point makes it 30. Win a third point, and you’re at 40. Score a fourth time and you usually win the game—but only if you’re ahead by at least two points.

If both players reach 40, that’s deuce. At this point, you can't just snag one more point and claim the game. You need to win two straight points: first to get the "advantage," then the next to seal the game. So matches can swing wildly—Fiona still laughs remembering the club match I played last month that dragged at deuce for what felt like hours. The crowd had time to buy a meat pie, have a chat, and still get back for match point. That's tennis for you: a single game can be lightning quick or drag out in a battle of nerves.

Some matches, especially at the pro level, feature endless rallies at deuce. The rules are simple—score two points in a row from deuce and take the game; if you lose the next, it slips back to deuce. That's why tennis is as much a mental contest as it is a physical one. The two-point gap isn’t just for drama. It forces players to consistently outplay their rival during the crucial moments, which means every game win is hard earned.

The same basic point progression—love, 15, 30, 40—happens in every single game, whether you’re playing at the local court down the street or Wimbledon’s Centre Court. Even kids learning mini tennis stick with the system. It’s universal, even if it’s more than a bit odd.

Why the Weird Numbers Still Matter: Strategy, Pace, and Pressure

Why the Weird Numbers Still Matter: Strategy, Pace, and Pressure

The tennis scoring system created some interesting side effects that most sports don’t have. Because the difference between 15 and 30, or 30 and 40, is just one point, players start to get a feel for the rhythm of a game. But once you hit deuce, all bets are off. Suddenly, the pressure jumps. Every shot at deuce or advantage feels like it could swing the entire set.

This is why the unique scoring doesn’t just leave players confused—it pushes them into tactical decisions. For example, players often serve more aggressively at 40-15 or match point, since the reward is higher—if you snag the point and you’re already ahead, you wrap up the game right there. Even at the casual Saturday game, you’ll see someone unleash their hardest serve when they’re up 40-love (where the risk is lower). On the flip side, when it’s deuce or 40-30 with your opponent serving, players play safer and focus on consistency, hoping for an error. Coaches around Sydney tell their young players that understanding when to escalate or play it safe is key to turning a close game into a win.

There’s also a psychological weapon in the numbers. Being up “thirty-love” can feel like cruising; being down “love-forty” feels like you’re trying to dodge a magpie swarm with no hat in spring. If you manage to claw back from a huge deficit and push the score to deuce, you see the confidence drain from the person across the net. That’s pure tennis drama, and it comes down to those unusual numbers meaning more than the sum of their parts.

Another byproduct of these numbers: the importance of holding serve. Each game is built up of these four main steps—love, 15, 30, 40—and then you reset for the next. At the pro level, you’ll hear commentators remark how challenging it is to “break serve” (win a game while receiving instead of serving), since holding serve typically gives you the first shot at racking up points.

Tennis Lingo for Beginners: Scoring, Calls, and Tips for Following the Game

If you’re new to the tennis world—whether you're playing a friendly Sunday match or just watching the next Aussie star climb the ranks—it helps to get your head around the lingo and the logic. Here’s a clear cheat-sheet for what gets called, what it means, and a few handy tips for picking it up fast:

  • "Love" = 0 points. (Comes from the French word for egg, "l’oeuf.")
  • "15" = 1 point.
  • "30" = 2 points. This is your tennis scoring building block, and often where games flip quickly.
  • "40" = 3 points. Win again and you might just take the game—unless score is tied at deuce.
  • "Deuce" = both players are tied at 40. Win two in a row to take the game from deuce.
  • "Advantage" = the first player to score after deuce. If they win the next point, they win the game. If not, back to deuce.

Scoring goes up by 15, then 15, then 10, which is the weird bit. Don’t worry—the 40 takes the place of what should have been 45. After a game ends, the winner gets one point in their set total. Six games win you a set, and two or three sets (depending on the event) wins the match.

If this feels a bit backward, remember, it’s all about tradition. The sound of “fifteen-thirty” floating over a crowd is as familiar as the stomp of tennis shoes on hard court. The trick is not to overthink it. Once you’ve played or watched a few games, the numbers stick in your memory better than any bit of random trivia. If you want to master the details, try keeping score yourself the next time you watch—shout it out with the umpire, or scribble it on paper. Ace sits next to me every time I practice this, barely blinking, but at least he doesn’t judge when I miscount.

If you’re learning to play in Australia, some local coaches recommend calling out each score change out loud—this keeps your head in the moment, adds a bit of banter, and, according to them, helps avoid those friendly "debates" over who’s really winning.

So next time you’re courtside and someone pipes up with "fifteen-thirty" or "love-forty," you know it’s not code for something complicated. It’s just tennis, ticking away in quarter-time, the same way it has for hundreds of years. Quirky? You bet. Totally fun? Absolutely.

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