Held in West Auckland’s Trusts Arena, this glorious collision of poor decisions and testosterone featured eight unhinged Māori and Polynesian individuals sprinting full-speed into each other on a 20m by 4m strip of artificial turf. Pretty much no rules, just vibes and possibly mild traumatic brain injury.
Brought to you by the Australia-based Runit Championship League, this event is bullrush without the childhood innocence or adult supervision. With $20,000 on the line at the trials and a whopping $200,000 up for grabs at the finals, it turns out all you need to tempt people into head-on human demolition is cash and a crowd thirsty for chaos.
And show up they did. Hundreds of fans filled the arena, eager to see if physics could be defied or if someone's kneecap would reach orbit. Spoiler: it was mostly necks snapping backward and the sound of regret echoing off the walls.
Many of the participants were Pacific Islanders and Māori, communities already overrepresented in high-impact sports. Organisers cancelling a planned event in Māngere raised eyebrows, not least because it looked suspiciously like they were aiming squarely at areas where opportunity is scarce and desperation is abundant.
But never mind that. These warriors of the 20-metre gauntlet aren't here for nuance. They're here to run very fast into another human wall and hope their skeleton doesn't file for divorce.
Sure, it’s entertaining if your definition of sport is watching people test the structural integrity of their spines for Instagram likes and a shot at rent money.
As the league gears up for its grand finale, one question remains: what’s next? Runit Straight Tag Team Edition? Runit Blindfolded? Or maybe a revolutionary new event where you don’t obliterate your collarbone for a cheque?
Either way, best of luck to the competitors. They’ll need it. And probably a chiropractor. Or two.
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