'자기 확신, 존중': 원주민 권투선수들이 데이비드 포콕과 함께 힘을 기르고 있습니다

A Canberra Indigenous-led boxing camp is helping young fighters hone their skills for life inside and outside the ring in its first development camp, continuing a proud tradition of First Nations involvement in the sport.

Topic:Indigenous Culture

In a basement gym below a church in Canberra, a congregation of athletes has come together for worship of another kind.

These First Nations kids have taken up boxing as a kind of religion, and an expression of their culture and identity.

Boxers aged from 10 to 18 shuffle, duck, weave, throw crosses and jabs.

The sound of glove against pad bounces off the walls and fills the gym.

Thirteen-year-old Leeton is working the bag, wearing gold-coloured gloves and a look of determination.

"I like that snap sound, especially with my right hand," Leeton says.

Leeton has travelled from Sydney for Cuz Boxing's first Indigenous Development Camp.

He's attending with his older brother and sparring partner, Jonas, who is working with one of the coaches on punch combinations on the other side of the gym.

"I grew up boxing with all my brothers and sisters," Jonas says.

"My dad's always been around boxing with his brothers [too], so we've all been around boxing for a while."

The 15-year-old says his training has been "locked in" for the last couple of years — and it shows, his blue gloves are a blur as he strikes the pads.

"You feel real fit, and then the next day you'll go again."

The camp is designed to prepare the athletes to take part in an elite boxing program at a state or national level.

"It's been challenging … the running, the waking up [in the] morning at the Murrumbidgee River, but we've pushed through," Jonas says.

Former Wallabies captain turned independent ACT senator David Pocock stepped them through his regular "Granimals" workout at the Murrumbidgee River.

"It wasn't that bad, it was only like 5 degrees," Leeton says.

Cuz Boxing founder and Bundjalung man Joe Hedger says the camp is designed to build mental fortitude alongside physical conditioning.

The fighter's first exercise at the camp was public speaking rather than ringcraft.

Ngunnawal Elder Auntie Violet Sheridan and Brumbies winger Andy Muirhead are among those who have mentored the group.

"It's not just the boxing, it's seeing these young kids feel confident about themselves, watching their self-belief grow," Joe says.

There's a through-line of Indigenous boxing spanning the last century, something felt keenly in the Cuz Boxing gym.

"We wanted to bring [the athletes] together so they can connect around culture and understand the importance of the communities they come from and represent," Joe says.

Promotional posters from famous fights hang on the walls of the gym, as do portraits of First Nations professionals like Lional Rose, and Joe's father, Alan Hedger.

Joe's son Miles Hedger has continued the family tradition, himself now a competitive fighter who trains at the gym.

As a NSW King of the Ring champion, 19-year-old Miles had earned his "big brother" status at the camp.

"I think a lot of Indigenous kids feel disconnected, whether it's with each other or they feel disconnected to their culture or their community," the proud young Bundjalung man says.

The noise of the glove and pad work dies down now as the session moves to the ring, but not to spar or fight.

Instead, a one-on-one agility drill with the aim to tap an opponent on the knee or shoulder.

The kids watch one another compete, rotating in and out of the ring after three taps.

Proud young Bundjalung man Maleek faces off against Latoya, one of his three younger sisters who have also come to the camp.

Laughter and cheers erupt as Latoya, five years younger and 30 centimetres shorter than 15-year-old Maleek, taps him on the knee sending him out of the ring.

Maleek says the camp has been hard work, but he's learned a lot, especially on his right hook.

"I left footy for boxing because boxing is just better," he says.