Nova Peris: Jason Dunstall’s Hall of Fame speech humiliating Willie Rioli Sr still rings loud

Former Olympian Nova Peris says Jason Dunstall’s comments about Willie Rioli Sr during his Hall of Fame elevation last year ‘cut so deep’ as his son continues to grieve.

As someone who was proudly inducted into the Sport Australia Hall of Fame in 2023 — the highest honour our country can bestow on an athlete — I understand the responsibility that comes with recognition.

You are not just celebrated for your stats or medals. You are honoured because of how you carried yourself. Because of the legacy you leave. Because of the example you set and who you lifted on your way up.

That’s why I was stunned and appalled by Jason Dunstall’s decision to use his Australian Football Hall of Fame platform to mock the late Willie Rioli Sr last year.

Willie Sr was a proud Aboriginal man, a talented footballer, and someone I knew and grew up with.

Dunstall wasn’t being inducted for the first time. He had already earned that. He was elevated to legend status — the highest possible accolade in the game of Australian rules football.

It is a title reserved for only the most elite, revered individuals in the sport’s history.

Willie Sr and I were the same age and went to high school together.

Nova Peris and Willie Rioli Jr.

Tragically, he passed away in 2022 at just 52 years old, the victim of a heart attack like so many of our people who are taken too young due to the devastating health inequalities. Chronic conditions like diabetes, kidney failure, and heart disease cut too many Aboriginal lives short. It is a national crisis, not a punchline.

Willie wasn’t just a footballer. He was a father. A cultural leader. A son of the Tiwi Islands who returned home to care for Country, to mentor young people, and to pass down traditions. He was deeply respected and profoundly loved.

His legacy lives on, not only through his son, Willie Rioli Jr who plays for Port Adelaide, but in every community he touched.

To make a joke at his expense from the podium of one of football’s highest honours is not just poor taste, it is cowardice. And it is a stark betrayal of what that honour is meant to represent.

In his elevation speech, Jason Dunstall told the audience:

“I remember we had a young man come down from the ‘Top End’, by the name of Willie Rioli. I don’t think Willie had done a lot of conditioning. He looked like an 18-gallon keg with legs.”

Jason Dunstall during his address during his elevation as a AFL Hall of Fame Legend. Picture: Josh Chadwick/AFL Photos/via Getty Images)

He continued, describing how he managed to beat Rioli in a pre-season endurance race saying: “I got the scent of my first kill, and it was invigorating”

Dunstall concluded the anecdote by noting that Rioli returned to the Top End shortly after.

That wasn’t just a throwaway line. It was a deliberate attempt at humour at the expense of a man who had passed away, a proud Aboriginal footballer who cannot speak back.

It was a calculated moment, delivered with a smile, met with laughter.

It was a public humiliation of a man who should be remembered with honour.

Willie Rioli Sr had a brief stint with Hawthorn in 1991, but never played a senior game. That fact alone in that era that he made it that far is a story of perseverance and strength.

He came from a community of less than 400 people. He left the Tiwi Islands, his family, his language, his culture to chase a dream in a system that has too often failed to understand or support Indigenous players.

But what astounds me is that Dunstall chose to mock an Aboriginal man, a minority of minorities. Someone who didn’t even get to go on to play a senior AFL game.

What was there to gain from that?

Out of the entirety of what he could have said as a newly inducted legend, he chose to kick someone who isn’t here to defend himself.

It shows a complete lack of understanding about what it takes to leave the Tiwi Islands — a remote part of this country with a population of just 2,500 — and pursue a dream in the AFL system.

Willie Rioli shows the ball to Hawthorn

Willie came from a community of fewer than 400 people. He left everything he knew: his language, his Country, his culture, his kin. He left that for an opportunity and that journey alone should be respected. That journey alone is powerful. It was heroic.

But instead, he was mocked. Ridiculed. Two years after his death.

That’s what gets me.

You don’t just mock a man; you mock a people. A people who have already been knocked down by history time and again. And to do that from the most prestigious platform in the sport is not only gutless, it is disgraceful.

The pain Dunstall’s words caused didn’t end with a laugh in a corporate room.

His son, Willie Jr, felt it deeply. So deeply, in fact, that he took to social media to share his grief and his anger after playing Hawthorn, writing that he now had “so much hate for Hawthorn”.

It was not because he’s bitter, but because he’s grieving. Because his father, who can no longer defend himself, was mocked in front of the nation. It is no wonder the number of Aboriginal players in the AFL system is declining.

And since that post, young Willie has been subjected to another wave of racial abuse.

Ignorant comments. Vile slurs. A young man already carrying grief, now being vilified for defending his father’s honour.

Let’s not forget that this isn’t the first time the Rioli family has been wounded by the AFL system.

Cyril Rioli Jnr — Willie Jr.’s uncle — famously walked away from the game due to racism and cultural ignorance at the Hawthorn Football Club.

Cyril Rioli left Hawthorn and returned to the Tiwi Islands. Picture: Glenn Campbell

When he bravely spoke up, Hawthorn issued a public apology and admitted wrongdoing. That accountability mattered. But here we are again — a new generation, same pain.

People who have never been marginalised or racially vilified often don’t understand the weight of these moments. They have no skin in the game. They’ve never had to carry the scars of racism or sit in silence because speaking out might cost them everything.

But if you stand for unity, you need to understand that change takes change. It takes listening. It takes action. And above all, it takes courage, the courage to break the silence, even when it’s uncomfortable.

No more can people be made to feel intimidated into staying quiet. No more can we allow silence to shield ignorance. Because silence is complicity.

Every year, the AFL has three rounds that matter more than sport.

There’s the finals, where every kid across the country dreams of being under the lights.

There’s the Dreamtime Round, born from the footsteps of Michael Long, who walked from Melbourne to Canberra in 2004 to demand truth and justice. With Kevin Sheedy’s support, ‘Dreamtime at the ‘G’ became the biggest reconciliation event in Australian sport — a round that honour’s Aboriginal excellence, culture, and strength.

And then there’s the ANZAC Round, where we pause to remember those who fought and died for the freedoms we enjoy, black and white soldiers standing side-by-side.

These aren’t just matches. They are milestones. They prove that sport can be more than a game. Sport can be a vehicle for unity, truth, and healing.

That’s why moments like Dunstall’s speech cut so deep. Because they remind us that even at the highest level, even in our most sacred sporting spaces, Aboriginal people can still be demeaned, erased, or made the butt of a joke, even after death.

When Johnathan Thurston and I — both proud Aboriginal athletes — were inducted into the Australian Sports Hall of Fame, we didn’t mock anyone.

We used the moment to give thanks. To elevate others. We honoured the people who lifted us: our families, our communities, our mentors. We carried the legacy of those who came before us, and we held space for those still to come.

Of the 450+ people in the Sport Australia Hall of Fame, only nine of us are Aboriginal. Nine. That number is not lost on me.

When you are one of the few, when you carry your culture and your history into spaces not built for you, you carry the dreams of your people. And you carry the responsibility to be more than just a sports figure. You must be a human role model. Because sport, at its best, is a tool for equality. A platform for change. A level playing field where every child can dream, regardless of race, postcode, or privilege.

Willie Rioli Jr poses for a photo with the 2018 AFL Premiership cup with his parents Georgina Vigona and Willie Rioli Sr in the Tiwi Islands. Picture: Justin Kennedy

I don’t know Jason Dunstall personally. I’ve never met him. But I’ve known many, many AFL greats. I admire them for their strength, their skill, and their service to the game.

As someone who loves football and believes deeply in its power, I also believe this is a moment to reflect.

Let us hope that future inductees into the AFL Hall of Fame use that platform wisely. Use it not for mockery, but for memory. Not for division, but for dignity.

We should expect more from those we call legends. Because a Hall of Fame isn’t just a celebration of talent, it’s a statement about character. And the greatest among us are those who choose grace over cruelty, integrity over ego.

Jason Dunstall, you had a moment to elevate the game along with your new status. Instead, you chose to belittle. You tarnished what should have been a sacred night. You mocked a man who cannot defend himself. You humiliated a son who is still playing our great game. And you reminded every young Aboriginal child watching that even our dead are not safe.

To Willie Rioli Jr, I say this:

You spoke from the heart. You stood up for your father. You stood up for your people. You are not alone. Keep shining because you are the light in the darkness. You are loved, respected, and fiercely supported.

Where you attack one of us, you attack all of us.

Let’s not forget what sport is truly about — lifting others up, inspiring hope, and building something bigger than ourselves.

That is the kind of greatness worth celebrating.

That is the kind of legacy a Hall of Fame should stand for.

Nova Peris is a former Olympian. She was the first Indigenous Australian to win an Olympic gold medal when she was a member of the victorious Hockeyroos in Atlanta in 1996.