If you had a time machine, what’s the one historic sports event that played out on these shores you’d love to attend? Inspired by the illustrious events that have shaped New Zealand’s sporting history, this collective article is a mosaic of perspectives, where voices from our newsroom share their dream of attending a pivotal sporting moment in Aotearoa. From nail-biting finishes to breathtaking performances, our contributors are bringing forth the essence of events that left an indelible mark on the Kiwi sporting landscape.
Paul Lewis: Carlos Spencer flips the bird
Crusaders v Blues, Christchurch, 2004
We media types are not supposed to be parochial. Ours is a trade where the observer is trained to be impartial. But there are occasions where rampant regionalism breaks out.
Like Christchurch 2004, when Carlos Spencer showed the Cantab crowd what chutzpah really means. He started a gloriously creative try from behind the Blues goal line – soaring 105m with a supercharged Joe Rokocoko and through clever linkage by loose forward Justin Collins, with Spencer scampering the final 40m to score. The Crusaders were broken open as they almost never were.
I couldn’t be there because I was busy being the sports editor of the newly created Herald on Sunday, a desk job, but laughed out loud as Spencer twisted the knife. He dawdled out to the corner instead of forcing the ball under the posts, as a normal person would. It was the final try in a historic 38-29 win and Spencer coolly kicked the conversion he had deliberately made more difficult for himself – and then gave the crowd the “up yours” sign. The crowd went quiet as they pondered this outrage.
It was to take 18 years before another win in Christchurch, 27-23 in 2022, and it taught me something else apart from the value of a creative spirit like Spencer. In researching a piece about his two-fingered salute, I discovered there is a strong body of thought that the sign originated in the 15th century, at the battle of Agincourt when English archers taunted the French knights they were destroying by holding up their bowstring fingers to show more death was on the way.
We all know now that the Crusaders basically own the Blues (played 42, won 32). But Spencer’s action was all the more delicious for the rarity of Blues victories in Christchurch. Even if they paid for it in subsequent years.
Kris Shannon: Best on field in Auckland
Manchester United v Auckland, Carlaw Park, 1967
A year before Manchester United became the first English club to win the European Cup, beating Benfica with more than 90,000 packed into Wembley, the Red Devils played at Carlaw Park.
It was May 1967 and United, having just captured the English crown for the seventh time, had embarked on a post-season tour of California, Australia and New Zealand.
With Sir Matt Busby patrolling the sidelines and George Best working his magic on the wing, United turned out against an amateur Auckland side filled with tradespeople and teachers.
The game was hosted at the erstwhile rugby league stronghold and the result was exactly what the 26,000 in attendance would have expected: an 8-1 victory for the soon-to-be Kings of Europe.
Best would score twice in central Auckland and, a year later, find the net again in northwest London. Known as the Fifth Beatle and at the height of his fame, Best was notorious for his love of a drink and indulged that passion during an after-match function at the house of Auckland defender Paul Rennell.
That ticket would have been even more magic than one to the game. “He was the life of the party,” Rennell told United’s website. “Telling stories, playing the piano, singing songs. Though I remember at one point [teammate] Noel Cantwell picked him up by his collar and said, ‘George, make sure you behave yourself lad’.”
United had no choice but to behave themselves in Auckland and Christchurch, where they would subsequently smash an unofficial national side 11-0. On the eve of the Carlaw Park fixture, the players had sought a pint in the city, only to learn the meaning of ‘six o’clock swill’.
“It was just past 6pm and the pubs were closed,” said club legend Paddy Crerand. “People were all walking out and we thought something was wrong.”
Suzanne McFadden: The Flying Dame
Yvette Williams breaks the world record in long jump, Gisborne, February 20, 1954
Precious few Kiwis witnessed Yvette Williams leap to Olympic gold in Helsinki in the pre-TV times of 1952.
But in the summers that followed her unprecedented success, they came in droves, packing grandstands and lining the edges of grass tracks at athletics meets around New Zealand to watch our first female Olympic champion attempt another first – to break the world long jump record.
Many times, Williams came within a fingernail’s reach of the world record, 20ft 6in (6.25m), held for 10 years by Dutch track and field legend Fanny Blankers-Koen. Williams trained year-round under the guidance of innovative coach and former POW Jim Bellwood, and tried a number of times that summer of ‘54.
Each time she landed frustratingly short.
And then came that glorious February day in Gisborne.
The fast grass run-up at Childers Road Reserve had been perfectly prepared for her, and Williams’ parents were in the crowd, up from Dunedin.
They didn’t have to wait long.
On her first of six jumps that afternoon, Williams got it exactly right – flying to 20ft 7 ½ in (6.28m). The crowd hushed as her effort was measured – then roared when it was confirmed her body’s imprint in the sand was beyond Blankers-Koen’s world best.
Williams, a secretary at the Auckland YMCA, had just become the first Kiwi sportswoman to own a world record.
Proving what an incredibly multi-talented athlete she was, Williams also broke her own national shot put record that day.
Today the women’s long jump world record is 7.52m – a mark that’s sat out on its own since 1988, when it was set by USSR athlete Galina Chistyakova (German world champion Malaika Mihambo won gold at the 2020 Tokyo Olympics leaping 7m).
Track and field seemed so much more innocent when Williams was the best in the world.
Sixty years later, I got to make lunch for Dame Yvette Corlett, and we ate hot-cross buns and chewed the fat about those simpler, heady times.
Michael Guerin: Addington grandstand burns down
Cardigan Bay wins at Addington, 1967
It is rare that the greatest who ever lived wins a major sporting event and the crowd is distracted by something else.
But in the case of the 1961 NZ Free-For-All at Addington, they had a pretty good reason: the public grandstand was burning down.
A fire broke out in the mammoth grandstand at 5.20pm on November 10, 1961, and it soon became apparent it wasn’t going to be stopped, ultimately claiming the stand but remarkably most importantly nobody died or was ever injured.
But what is truly jaw-dropping, especially by today’s standards, is it was deemed a good idea to still run the last race, even though the track was 20m from the engulfed grandstand.
It gets better.
That race was won by Cardigan Bay, not only New Zealand’s greatest ever harness horse but the first harness horse in the world to win $1 million after he went to the US when passed his physical peak and still beat their best, winning 80 races in his career.
So our greatest ever harness horse won a major race while a huge building burnt down just metres away, producing one of the most incredible photos in NZ sporting history.
It looked photoshopped before photoshopping was a thing.
I would have loved to have been there, to see Cardy, to witness the lets-get-on-with-it attitude of New Zealand in the 1960s and then run to a public phone box and ring the Herald to say “you won’t believe this...”
Clay Wilson: Snell’s finest run
Peter Snell, 800m, Lancaster Park, 1962
February 3, 1962 remains etched in New Zealand sporting folklore.
Long before the age of time-shaving super shoes and skin suits, a drizzly Saturday morning and damp grass track in the country’s Garden City didn’t present the best conditions for running fast.
But, as midday past and the skies cleared to blue, the stage was set for 23-year-old Sir Peter Snell to put his considerable pace, power and middle-distance prowess on full display.
Just a week since he had broken the world mile record – 600km north, at Whanganui’s famous Cooks Gardens – the reigning Olympic 800m champion arrived in Christchurch with the global mark in that distance in his sights.
New Zealand’s fastest 400m runner at that time, Barry Robinson was assigned pace-making duties, galloping around the first lap on a sodden Lancaster Park track in a blistering 50 seconds.
Post-race, Snell would reveal he took the bell feeling the pace had been much too fast.
But as Robinson hung on – needing to complete the race to make a world record possible – the man everyone had come to see shot off into the distance.
Snell stopped the clock in 1min, 44.3sec – knocking no less than 1.4 seconds off the record set by Belgian Roger Moens seven years prior.
The time remains the national record – the longest-standing national mark on Athletics New Zealand’s books at almost 62-years-old. It stood as the world’s leading mark for 11 years, and Oceania’s best for 56. A time still good enough to win gold in four of the last six Olympic 800m finals.
Snell went on to achieve the 800m-1500m double at the Tokyo Olympics two years later, finishing his career with three Olympic gold medals, two Commonwealth Games titles and having set multiple world records.
It says plenty about his run on that early February afternoon in Christchurch, then, that it remains regarded by many as his finest-ever race.
Andrew Alderson: A family legend
Otago v Canterbury, Carisbrook, January 9, 1950
Otago is hosting Canterbury on the second day of a Plunket Shield cricket match, one of post-World War II New Zealand’s most popular sporting tickets.
Bert Sutcliffe, the country’s finest batsman of the era, is at the crease on a chanceless 117. His wicket is precious for the visitors. One week earlier, on the same ground, he had amassed the country’s then-highest first-class score, 355 against Auckland.
Suddenly, right-armer Cliff Snook tempts Sutcliffe. He lofts a ball towards deep extra cover. A 20-year-old pace bowler playing his second first-class match waits beneath the steepler. Fresh from a five-for on debut against Wellington, he’s yet to make an impression in his opening spells this time. Otago are currently 171 for three.
The ball descends. The youth is faced with a pincer movement of pressure. On the one hand, a packed holiday crowd is willing a spill, hoping they can marvel at Sutcliffe’s elegance for the rest of the day; on the other, 10 teammates pray the rookie holds his nerve… and 156 grams of leather.
Thud. The catch finds safe hands.
So why, given the plethora of New Zealand sporting achievements at home, would I choose this moment for a fanciful spot of time travel? The answer is simple: My Dad took the catch. Even 72 years on, not long before his death in November 2022 aged 93, he could still weave a lucid tale about that snare.
A charming epilogue followed the feat. As Sutcliffe walked past my father on his return to the pavilion, he grinned and said: “Crikey, I bet you’re glad you held onto that, John.”
Too right. An individual memory for a lifetime, and a family legend for generations to come.
Winston Aldworth: When the All Blacks became the world’s best
All Blacks v Springboks, Eden Park, 1956
My dad was there in 1956 at Eden Park. His dad made him sleep outside the venue overnight to get tickets (grandad never lived to see the age when footy tickets could be purchased via an app on your phone).
The Old Foe spent three Odyssean months on our shores during that tour, brawling their way through 23 matches (with six more in Australia on the way here for good measure). Whangārei, Westport, Invercargill and Napier all were ticked off – a far cry from today’s hit-and-run, single-match Rugby Championship raids.
Former heavyweight boxing champ Kevin Skinner punched the Boks into submission at Eden Park, switching from propping on one side of the scrum to the other at halftime so he could share the biff around.
Final scoreline: 11-5. The Boks only got on the board after the All Blacks second-row crusher Tiny White was carried from the field injured with a couple of minutes left. Victory sealed the All Blacks’ first series win over the Springboks (the first time anyone had beaten them in a series); it was – in real terms – the first time we could unreservedly be declared the greatest rugby nation in the world. Ragnarök with the right result.
The 61,240-strong crowd remains the biggest at a live sports event in New Zealand history.
Buying tickets on your phone is all well and good, but I would happily sleep outside the ground to be at this.
Jason Pine: One shot for glory
New Zealand v Bahrain, Wellington, 2009
One of the most memorable nights in our sporting history was November 14, 2009, as New Zealand faced Bahrain in an intercontinental playoff for a place at the 2010 Fifa World Cup. The first leg had finished goalless, meaning the priceless ticket to South Africa was resting on the result of this game.
As the teams lined up in the tunnel, Rory Fallon looked across at the Bahrain players, rugged up against the elements, wearing gloves and leggings and visibly shivering and started to yell: “These boys don’t want it! They don’t want to be here!” Advantage All Whites before the teams even stepped on the grass.
What greeted them was cacophonous noise and a sea of white. The entire stadium, except for a small pocket of travelling Bahrain fans tucked underneath the scoreboard at the Northern end, was decked out in white.
As befitting the occasion, it was a cagey encounter. Just before half-time, Ben Sigmund won a right-wing corner, which Leo Bertos swung into a crowded penalty area. Fallon rose above the hapless Bahraini defence and headed home the most important goal in his country’s football history. Cue pandemonium as New Zealand took a giant step towards the World Cup.
Early in the second half, disaster, with Bahrain awarded a penalty. As Mohammad Adnan prepared to take, the All Whites coaching staff desperately tried to get a message to goalkeeper Mark Paston about which side Adnan favoured. Paston never got the memo; it was just too loud. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders, dived to his right and kept it out. The stadium literally shook on its foundations as the World Cup dream stayed alive.
As the minutes wore down, Bahrain became increasingly desperate, but couldn’t find a way past a stubborn defence, superbly marshalled by Ryan Nelsen. One final effort landed safely in Paston’s arms before the referee blew the whistle for full-time, the catalyst for mayhem on the pitch and in the stands. Full steam ahead, South Africa.
Luke Kirkness: McCullum’s masterpiece
New Zealand v India, Wellington, 2014
In the annals of cricket history, some innings define eras. Brendon McCullum’s monumental 302 against India in 2014 is one such saga that transcends time. The venue was the iconic Basin Reserve in Wellington, and the date, February 14-18, 2014, etched itself into Black Caps folklore.
The stage was set for McCullum’s heroics when New Zealand found themselves struggling at 94-5. Staring at defeat, McCullum strode in, shouldering the responsibility. India had posted 438 in response to New Zealand’s meagre 192, and Zaheer Khan had ignited the spark that reduced the home side to 52-3.
As McCullum took guard, the challenge was monumental. With the calm assurance of a maestro, he embarked on a journey that transformed New Zealand’s fortune. Partnerships of 352 with BJ Watling and 179 with Jimmy Neesham propelled the Kiwis to a colossal 680/8 declared in the second innings. India found themselves outclassed, their hopes of levelling the series discarded like remnants around the Basin Reserve.
Starting cautiously, McCullum took 146 balls to reach his first 50, aiming to revive the innings and nullify India’s momentum. Once accomplished, the gears effortlessly shifted. The next 100 runs came in just 51 balls. He continued to orchestrate the innings, slowing down for his third fifty, taking 106 balls, before accelerating again. The magical moment arrived when McCullum cut a delivery to the third-man boundary, surpassing Martin Crowe’s record (299) and claiming his place in history as the first New Zealander to score a triple century.
Despite the match ending in a draw, the significance of McCullum’s triple ton resonated beyond the result. New Zealand secured a historic series win against India, ending a drought that dated back to 2002-03.
Will Toogood: Since day one
Warriors v Broncos, Auckland, 1995
On March 10, 1995, 30,000 people had the honour of witnessing the birth of New Zealand’s first fully professional rugby league team, the Auckland Warriors.
Speaking of birth, technically, I was one of those 30,000 – although I didn’t have a ticket. My mother was pregnant at the time and nine and some change months later another sporting high-achiever was born.
The Warriors, coached by John Monie and captained by Dean Bell, played their first match in the New South Wales Rugby League’s freshly-expanded Winfield Cup against a Brisbane Broncos side featuring names like Allan Langer, Brad Thorn and Kevin Walters while coached by the now-legendary mastermind Wayne Bennett.
The anticipation and build-up to the match had everyone on edge – not just fans. The 33-year-old veteran Bell succumbed to some pre-match nerves and was seen in the corner of the Warriors dressing room fetching up his Weet-Bix.
Ericsson Stadium – previously Mt Smart Stadium and these days GO Media Stadium, played host to a match that would set something of a tone for the Warriors’ next 29 years.
Leading 22-10 with 30 minutes to go, the Warriors looked set to begin their journey with a win before the Broncos rallied. Langer was the master and prevented a fairytale for Auckland. He scored two tries in seven minutes and also kicked a late field goal to hand the visitors a 25-22 win.
What transpired at Ericsson in 1995 laid the foundation for the unconditional support the Warriors have received every season since – with many a fan proudly telling anyone who will listen that they’ve been there since day one.
Tim Roxborogh: When Mark Greatbatch opened up
Cricket World Cup, New Zealand v South Africa, Eden Park, February 29, 1992
As a child, I would record homemade highlights packages of cricket matches off the TV, trying to summon some kind of psychic powers to predict when there would be a ball with some action. The only problem was that I didn’t possess any psychic powers, making my homemade highlights vids from the 90s mostly a fun combination of dot balls and awkward jump-cuts to replays of crowds cheering boundaries or wickets. But there was one game where I nailed it. That day, I could just sense when something big was going to happen and I watched my video back of that game over and over and over.
It was February 29, 1992, game 10 of the Benson & Hedges Cricket World Cup, being played in both New Zealand and Australia. A world cup sponsored by ciggies – how good! It was Crowe’s hundred in the opening game against Australia where Henry Blofeld said, “Ooh my goodness me, I haven’t seen a cricket ball hit harder in my life!”
It was Dipak Patel opening the bowling. It was Chris Harris with his dibbly-dobblies and his electric fielding. And it was Mark Greatbatch.
It was me falling in love with cricket.
Greatbatch wasn’t even going to be playing against South Africa, having had one of the worst form slumps of his career. Low on confidence and out of the side, it was an injury to John Wright that saw Greatbatch recalled to the side and invited by his old mate Crowe to open. With nothing to lose, Greatbach went berserk.
Chasing a mediocre 191, Greatbatch played like it was T20 more than a decade before the shortest format was invented. He hit nine 4s and two 6s, including one so huge that John ‘Mystery’ Morrison uttered in disbelief that it was “on the roof”. The Eden Park crowd was stunned. It was back when the Black Caps were known as the Young Guns, and the guns were blazing; the total was chased down with 15 overs to spare.
In my head, Greatbatch hit every second ball to the fence and must’ve struck at 200. Somehow it was only 68 off 60 balls. But it was a different era, albeit one that foreshadowed where we are today.
As for my video, I just left it on record, except for the ads. The feeling was so different to the cricket I’d previously watched. I was 10-years-old and I was obsessed. The next game at Eden Park (for NZ v the West Indies), I’d be there, right in the mess of the old terraces with the toilet-paper-and-beer Mexican waves, and the adults with their chilly bins full of punch. Greatbatch again went crazy, charging Malcolm Marshall and sending the crowd into delirium.
And as much as I loved my homemade highlights video, I’ve forever wished I could’ve been there that first time Greatbatch did his thing.
Peter Malcouronne: When the Commonwealth still ruled
Commonwealth Games, Auckland, 1990
Is this how empires end? No one knew it then, but the 1990 Commonwealth Games in Auckland marked the zenith of this curious celebration of amateurism, nationalism and the empire where the sun never set.
For New Zealand – and for Auckland, especially – the 14th edition of the Games were everything, dominating every second of a delicious mid-summer fortnight. We fancied ourselves the centre of the world’s attention, proud of the ‘friendliest games ever’ and our idealised race relations, as Dame Whina graced the opening. Aotearoa in excelsis – not exactly true, but not entirely false either. I was there, in a way. I’d just finished my first year at uni and got a job at the Games. Starting at 6am and often working through until 10pm, I cleaned portaloos.
I’d listen to the radio as we went from venue to venue, read the Herald at lunchtime, and occasionally catch TV highlights in the evening. As I vacuum-pumped, I’d hear the roars from inside Mt Smart Stadium. I’d hear This is the Moment playing on the PA system. I knew we were doing well. Seventeen golds – 58 medals in all – and a strong fourth on the medal table, second on the far more consequential per capita table that only New Zealand knows about (thwarted here by a Nauruan weightlifter). Nikki Jenkins on the vault, Gary Anderson at the velodrome, and Rick Wells and Erin Baker in triathlon gave us our golden summer.
I heard and missed it all, Including the event that’d consumed me for months beforehand. Track and field is the soul of any games, and Auckland had Linford Christie, Merlene Ottey and a clutch of Kenyans. But the 1500m was the race. Sixteen years after he was pipped by Filbert Bayi in the race of the century at Christchurch, 14 years after gold at Montreal, my hero, John Walker, 38, was set for one glorious last hurrah. Everyone reckoned he should move up to the 5000m, but there was no synchronicity in that. Mane flowing, Walker cruised through qualifying, finishing less than half a second behind reigning Olympic silver medallist Peter Elliot. The fairytale was scripted. I sat outside in the truck listening, willing a fast early pace that’d burn off the pretenders, nobble the fast-finishers – and reward a veteran with stamina and guile. And that kind of happened. Except the records show that Peter Elliot cantered home in 3min, 33sec, John Walker finishing last, 20 seconds behind. Elliot insisted Walker join him for a lap of honour. That was kind. But this was the end.
Christopher Reive: Tiger town
Tiger Woods plays in the 2002 NZ Open
For all the impressive performances we’ve seen on Kiwi shores, the lacklustre showing from Tiger Woods at the 2002 New Zealand Open is a unique part of our sporting history.
Woods was at the peak of his powers – granted, he enjoyed a long ‘peak’ – with the World No 1 fresh off a season in which he won both the Masters and the Players Championship, and finished atop the PGA Tour money list.
Coming into the tournament, Woods hadn’t missed a cut since 1997, and a large gallery turned out to follow the sport’s greatest player around the course.
But the greens at Paraparaumu Beach Golf Club threatened to get the better of Woods in a rain-impacted tournament.
The world’s best golfer, and a man synonymous with the sport, barely made it into the weekend; scraping in at 41st place after two rounds of play. But when the weekend came, Woods found some form – putting together a four-under 67 on Saturday and a two-under 69 on Sunday to finish the tournament at six-under and in a tie for sixth place – five shots off the pace.
The tournament would have been nothing more than a drop in the ocean for Woods, but it was an opportunity like no other for fans to get a glimpse of the greatest professional golfer to swing a club. In the sporting realm there are athletes whose achievements will long be spoken about after their career is over; athletes who, in years to come, being able to say ‘I saw them play live’ will be worth bragging about.
As a bonus, the title was tightly contested with four players in contention down the stretch; ultimately Australian Craig Parry triumphed by just one shot ahead of Kiwi duo Michael Campbell and Steven Alker, and fellow Australian Stephen Leaney.
Cameron McMillan: A brief glimpse of greatness in Auckland
Roger Federer’s only match in New Zealand
Unlike Woods above, Roger Federer’s only appearance in New Zealand slipped well under the radar. Before he claimed even one of his 103 career titles and 20 grand slams, an 18-year-old Federer arrived in Auckland to play in the Heineken Open in January 2000. He took on fellow teen and Juan Carlos Ferrero on court six in the first round and lost.
The Federer-Ferrero side court encounter is one of the great sporting contests no one saw – not in the sense that it was an amazing match (maybe it was but tracking down anyone in 2016 who could verify that was difficult) but that the two participants would go on to reach world No 1 within four years.
Here they were, playing in little, old Auckland and hardly anyone saw it, although no doubt many claim they were there. Most fans that day were watching the centre court opening-round clash between former world No 2 Michael Chang and Zimbabwe’s Byron Black.
Herald reader Greg Lim told me in 2016 he attended the Federer-Ferrero match with his mother and that the crowd figure was about five, which means they were well out-numbered by the ball boys and linespeople working the match.
“I was more impressed with Juan-Carlos’ play that day, and nothing suggested to me Federer was to go onto great heights,” Lim said.
Ferrero took it out in straight sets 6-4, 6-4. And despite the fact the court may have smelt like sewerage, it still would have been a great match to attend – just to say you were there.
Federer never returned here to play. New Zealand likely remains the only country in which he played and never won a set, let alone a match.