“If we all cock, they can’t disqualify all of us, right?” At the start of Australian breaking’s biggest ever tournament, the question muttered by a male competitor following Friday morning’s athlete briefing had merit.

With two direct places in the Paris Olympics on the line – one for b-boys and one for b-girls – the stakes are high at the Oceania Breaking Championships in a cavernous space beneath Sydney’s Town Hall.

“Cocking”, a gesture in breaking used to disrespect someone by drawing attention to one’s groin, has long been a part of the sport’s culture. But a Japanese judge had just warned the competitors they might need to tone down their traditional approach. It is, after all, a high-profile Olympic qualification tournament.

However, using the middle finger is allowed, Katsu One continues. “If you do that with something like ‘slam burns’ – it’s risky, but as a freestyle reason – music, boom, pow-wow – it’s fresh. It’s risky, but it’s an expression.”

One organiser interrupts preparations with an announcement. “Don’t scratch the floor,” he says. The building’s interiors are heritage listed, after all.

Inside the 130-year-old Town Hall, history is hard to avoid. Matthew “Mystery” Peet, one of the event hosts and a long-time member of the local scene, notes Australian breaking’s origins could be traced back 50 years to an electricity substation a couple of blocks away.

Serious competitors have their eyes on an Olympic prize. While the sport will make its debut in Paris in 2024, it has been culled from the program in Los Angeles in 2028.

Peter “Sette” Sette finishes the initial round with the highest score among b-boys thanks to a dizzying, acrobatic routine. He says the decision to drop the sport in 2028 has only raised the stakes this weekend. “This is the one and only chance for b-boys around the world to get a gold medal,” he says. “If that’s what it is, that’s what it is.”

Most stroll around the dimly lit space in baggy pants and long tees, with a few sharply dressed sponsors and even-baggier dressed parents interspersed. But Tony Tilenni – the World Dance Sport Federation’s (WDSF) first vice-president and an Australian – stands out in his charcoal pin-striped suit. Walking outside to make himself clearly heard, he says the decision to scrap the sport from the 2028 Games was “profoundly disappointing for the athletes, for the officials, for WDSF, for the community”.

The recent Asian Games sold 4,000 tickets in 15 seconds, Tilenni claims, giving him hope the sport could be in the mix for Brisbane 2032. Sports are already manoeuvring for inclusion which will be determined – not by the IOC or AOC – but by the Brisbane Games organising committee. “The reality is that there is I think, good support from the Australian Olympic Committee and also from the Brisbane 2032 [body]. John Coates is a great supporter, and certainly other vice presidents of the IOC are great supporters,” he says.

But navigating the world of international sporting politics is the furthest thing from the minds of most present. Thirty-seven b-boys and 15 b-girls are competing in the competition that finishes on Saturday – which will be streamed online on the IOC’s Olympics Channel – for two direct Paris places and six spots in the qualification series for the Olympics to be held next year in Shanghai and Budapest.

As the rat-race continues on Sydney’s footpaths outside, the subterranean expanse below the sandstone clocktower presents another contest. Approaching lunch on Friday, just as the food halls within metres fill with workers, the DJs, dubbed the “backbone of our culture” by Mystery, fill the dark space with beats. The temperature rising, a chilly spring morning becomes a maze of physical expression and a haze of what might just be Lynx deodorant.

Fittingly the DJs stand above all, behind the two rows of judges next to the spotlit floor. Their relentless beats give each contestant purpose, bringing the athletes together in a frenzy of euphoria. While breaking is a sport judged by several judges to one decimal point across five categories – technique, vocabulary of moves, originality, execution, and musicality – the shared joy of participants is obvious.

In one battle between four b-girls – with a spot in the Olympics on the line – each applauds the other, challenging, urging, and amplifying the shared performance. It ends with an embrace, all polyester, denim and sweaty foreheads.

The routine of Rachael “Raygun” Gunn – Australia’s foremost breaker thanks to an avalanche of recent media (and the irresistible fact she is an academic in her mid-30s) – is scored highest by the judges, securing her a place in Saturday’s quarter-finals with a busy, twisting, technical display.

The eighth and final quarter-final place for b-girls was taken by the exuberant Isabelle “Fizzy” Lee. She was nervous beforehand until sage advice from a friend. “They just said do what you do,” she says. “My thing is energy – my name’s Fizzy right? Bubbly, bright.”

Reflecting on the sport’s place, between booming hip hop tracks, Lowe Napalan, Ausbreaking’s president, says he’s been pleased with how it’s going. On another Friday he would be working for a wealth management fintech just up the round. But today he’s here. “Everyone’s really excited to get down,” he says.