On one scorecard, a name is missing. On another, a result. Elsewhere it is the final total. The Scorecard with One Blank Line survives in too many forms to be treated as the record of a single recoverable match.
One account says the blank protects a loser. Another remembers a point nobody could honestly award. Justice and the World sit close to the disagreement: the event has ended, but a fair account may still have a space in it.
A superstition warns against filling the line afterwards. Archivists annotate replicas all the same, making room for a later account without pretending it was written at the match. The distinction is small on the page and large in what the page can claim.
Perhaps a teller knows why the line was left. Perhaps the information is simply missing. The paper has no suspended result to reveal. Until there is reason to write, the next mark can wait.