It started with a fence and a good idea.

Club Gil began the way most good things do — a few guys, a backyard, and a shared frustration with the local courts. Reserved nets, two-hour waits, the same broken light that never got fixed. So we built our own.

One court, done properly. Cushioned and regulation. Lit for night play. A cooler that never runs dry and a bench worth sitting on between games. We added a waiver, a booking calendar, and a simple rule: keep it good for the next guy.

What we didn't want was a gym. No wellness package, no app nagging you about streaks, no membership consultant. Just a private, reliable, no-waitlist place to play with people you actually like — and the occasional guest who earns a second invite.

It's named for Gil, who swears he could've gone pro. We let him keep saying it. Mostly.