Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are warned that the following article contains images and names of deceased people.
Yanggendyinanyuk, also known as Dick-a-Dick, was a member of the Aboriginal cricket team who toured England in 1868 as a teammate of Unaarrimin, or Johnny Mullagh.
So when Yanggendyinanyuk’s descendant, Belinda Duarte, presented Player of the Match Scott Boland with the Mullagh Medal at the conclusion of the third Test there was a fitting synergy of past and present, an acknowledgement of the place of First Nations people that has too often been absent in Australian cricket.
When Duarte spoke to journalists in the MCG press box after the medal presentation the emotional significance was clear as she fought back tears.
“It's important to understand why it's emotional and the origins of that first XI,” said Duarte. “What they were living at the time, what our families were experiencing: the enslavement, the presence of missions and reserves, the racism and a space in which they learned cricket for four years in which they could be trailblazers and really take the origins of the sport back to its origins, with the very, very first peoples of this place.
“This is a story that is not well known and it should be etched in every Australian's heart.
“It's something for us to collectively be extraordinarily proud of and so, knowing I am a proud descendant, one of a number of descendants that will see and know a western district young man has honoured his ancestry, has honoured these cricket talents on a special day that has such historical significance, not only for Aboriginal people here in this country, but for all Australians.”
The story of Scott Boland, a 32-year-old journeyman who plied his trade in domestic cricket before making his debut in the Boxing Day Test and took the extraordinary figures of 6 for 7 in the second innings, will now take its own place in cricket lore, not least because he became just the second male cricketer of Indigenous descent to play a Test for Australia.
But there are many stories of Aboriginal cricket in between 1868 and 2021 that have rarely been told.
One of the most illustrative, if shameful, is that of Eddie Gilbert.
In the 1930s, the fast bowler from Queensland was widely believed to be one of the fastest bowlers in the world and he once dismissed Bradman for a duck.
But the laws at the time required Gilbert to obtain special permission to leave his settlement to play cricket and it is widely believed the prevailing racist attitudes of the times fuelled whispers of an illegal bowling action and were instrumental in preventing him from representing his country.
Other, more contemporary stories are also hidden away, like that of the Imparja Cup, which started as a friendly wager between two teams from Tennant Creed and Alice Springs in 1993 and has since grown into an annual carnival that showcases Indigenous talent from around the country and incorporates the National Indigenous Championships.
I’ve been lucky enough to cover two Imparja Cups and the enduring memory is that of being unable to take a step in any direction without falling over fascinating and inspiring stories, of Aboriginal and cricket cultures entwined in a way that many Australians never see.
Just one example was the tale of the Tiwi Islands team, who played with stunningly painted bats that featured turtles, fish and birds and represented their individual island communities.
And at each match they placed two exquisitely painted stumps by the boundary, one painted by women, the other by men, marking the spiritual support from all those at home.
It is really only in the past decade that Cricket Australia has recognised the vast talent pool of Indigenous cricketers that remained largely untapped and taken steps to remove barriers and create pathways for Indigenous cricketers.
The advent of the BBL and WBBL has undoubtedly helped and the sight of Indigenous players such as Dan Christian, D’Arcy Short, and Hannah Darlington succeed at a professional level is an important step towards making cricket an aspirational sport for young Aboriginals, but it is still sobering to think that Boland joins such a small group, also comprising Jason Gillespie, Aunty Faith Thomas and Ashleigh Gardner, to don the Baggy Green.
The WBBL held its first Indigenous Round this year and the BBL will follow suit in January; in both competitions several teams wore specially and meaningfully designed kits that celebrated Australia’s oldest cultures.
But such celebrations have been visible in other sports and competitions, such as the NRL and AFL, for many years; it is commendable that things are changing now but cricket has undeniably been very late to this party.
Australian cricket's Indigenous leader, Justin Mohamed, believes the reason for this tardiness has been the lack of Indigenous leaders within the sport.
“It's run by white men,” said Mohamed. “And the value of where First Nations people sat was very, very low.
“You know, and the Eddie Gilbert story or this [1868] group that went across, it's like, well, that happened but we've got a better way of doing it all.
“And so I think just the way it's been run has been set in a very colonialised process, and anyone of colour just doesn't fit the right mould.
“And, you know, it shouldn't be unusual that we have in our national teams people of colour, in the crowd out here we have a lot of different nationalities and people of different backgrounds.
“So we haven't quite got there yet, but I think for a long number of years that's the way it was run.
“There's plenty of stories in regions where budding Aboriginal cricketers who were coming through chose other sports because they hit racism, or they hit being ostracised, or left on the outer of their local junior or senior paths and they’ve said, no I’m out of here.”
In addition to improved outreach and pathways, increased symbolism and acknowledgment is playing its part, whether it be the Australian Indigenous Men’s and Women’s teams touring England in 2019 to commemorate the 1868 tour, the advent of the Mullagh Medal, the Welcome to Country that is part of the buildup to Tests or the players taking part in a barefoot circle ceremony before major matches.
But the sight of Boland sending bails flying and being hailed as a hero by the Bay 13 crowd is perhaps the most powerful.
There’s a phrase that’s often coined when discussing the power of visible diversity, but when Duarte uses it, the emotion ringing in her voice, it carries extraordinary weight.
“You can’t be what you can’t see.”
