A quiet beach, a long bridge, and a kid with a bigger hit than most adults. We sit with a twelve-year-old Indigenous athlete from Bribie Island who speaks with disarming clarity about life in a wheelchair, the rules and thrills of wheelchair rugby, and why being treated “too nice” misses the point. He rates his day, laughs about PlayStation vs Xbox, and explains how a volleyball becomes a weapon when you’ve got timing, grip, and a ten-second count ticking down.
The heart of the conversation beats on court: specialist chairs that cost around 15k, the bounce rule every eight to ten seconds, the no over-and-back line, and the tactical joy of clean contact. He admits the first sessions were nerve-racking, then smiles at the memory of tipping someone over during a comp. The goal isn’t fuzzy—he wants the Paralympics—and he lays out the pathway via junior comps, coaching, and consistent training. Off the court, he’s clear about what he misses—running for the sake of it—and bolder about what he wants from people: normal treatment, not special handling.
Between the big ideas, we travel local: dolphins by the bridge, fishing on sandbanks with mullet, prawns, and pilchards, and the agony of a line snapping when a cod runs. School gets a wry assessment—lunch and friends keep it bearable—while home life centres on a hard-working mum and a house where rap beats out country. It’s a portrait of resilience without varnish: funny, sharp, and full of momentum.
If you enjoy honest stories about youth sport, disability, and everyday ambition, tap play and share this one with a mate who needs the lift. Subscribe for more candid chats, leave a review to help others find the show, and tell us: what question would you have asked him?
