Kylie Whitehead set a unique legacy on the bowling green the moment the Warlpiri woman fought the odds to claim the 2019 World Singles Champion of Champions title.

The first Aboriginal woman to represent Australia broke the typecast of what a lawn bowler was supposed to be.

It was around that time Wadawurrung bowler Rhys Jeffs, a Victorian representative at the Australian Singles Champion of Champions tournament, had a vision to gather the best Indigenous bowlers in the one location to play and celebrate the culture of their mobs as much as their scores.

Jeffs, who runs a business selling bowls that include Indigenous designs, accrued a network of Aboriginal bowlers after coming across a sprinkling of blackfullas first playing in a number of Victorian competitions before facing even more on state duties interstate.

"I know about a dozen now purely, because I sort of put the feelers out for a Facebook group that I started, Indigenous Lawn Bowls Australia," Jeffs says.

"I got a few into a subgroup from who I found to see how we can best get some sort of inclusion happening across the board.

"That's sort of fizzled out a bit because, I guess, because of the ways of blackfullas: everyone always thinks it's a great idea, but it just needs some people to drive it on.

"Some of the fullas I have, they are confident with Facebook, but aren't with meetings and getting people sorted – it's a hard ask, especially for the older fullas.

"But I found out they are there and that's a good start."

Bowls Australia is aware of a push for a national Indigenous championship idea, but Jeffs would like the administrators of the sport to sanction such a competition into its national event calendar.

Until Whitehead mastered the sport as one of Australia's most prominent competitors – male or female – the inclusion of First Nations bowlers had not been given much of a thought.

Since winning a world title five years ago, the Wodonga club bowler has heavily been involved in drafting an historic-first ever Bowls Australia reconciliation action plan this year.

Whitehead, who is also employed as a physiotherapist outside of the sport, has guided Bowls Australia through the process on acts of inclusivity, proper language terms, and diversity of cultures and identities.

Jeffs is hoping the reconciliation action plan will deliver Indigenous bowlers a wider understanding of their cultural ties.

"That is one reason why that subgroup got created for is to try and find us opportunities because with bowls every year they do a nationals, but how they can also incorporate an Indigenous national team in that as well," he says.

"The thing we talk about is for funding, how are we going to get that to fly, and how many people would we actually have involved."

Jeffs understands that a more relaxed approach will encourage Indigenous people to take up the sport.

"It's not something I suppose our game allows still," he says.

"Well, not actually allowed, but the picture of bowls is your average white male from 50 up to 80, when that is not really a thing to be."

His rural Victorian club among the conservative township of Winchelsea, far enough outside of more progressive Geelong, which Jeffs not only stars but coaches the entire list of bowlers is a fine example of not just change, but also change for the better.

The age demographics, for one, is younger and families are more prominent around the club than some.

The Winchelsea Bowls club has spoken to Jeffs about creating a safe Indigenous space that asks the bowler-turned-Aboriginal artist to paint art commissions that reflect a contemporary club and the land it shares with Gulidjan people.

There is also talk from Winchelsea of being the first club in their competition to initiate its own Indigenous round for what would be a "pretty big deal" in its local pennant.

"I have a cousin who came through the door and I didn't think anything of it, but he told his missus that this club might be good to go to because they're very inclusive of Aboriginal people," Jeffs says.

"He didn't realise that I was his cousin, at first, until I told him I am Aboriginal myself and that I coach the club, and he was like, 'You what?'.

"That's what most people's reaction is to that.

"Potentially through me, he is interested in playing bowls now at Winchelsea because he feels safe."

Warren Towney is another example of a changing face of lawn bowls – similarly in rural areas especially.

The former rugby league devotee from Peak Hill, who lived for the annual knockout competitions in his younger days, just happened to be the first Indigenous player to hold up a prestigious trophy in one of the most significant Aboriginal bowls events.

"There is nothing like representing your people and to do it in the two things you love – representing your culture and representing the sport that you love and combine the two, nothing more gives me more pride and satisfaction," Towney says.

"It takes me back to playing football in knockouts.

"We don't get the same rev-up in bowls, but it gives you that same strong feeling of a team environment among your people, representing your mob."

The prize was also a tribute to his good mate that Towney managed to take possession of the Henry Gordon Memorial Shield for an Indigenous All-Stars against non-Indigenous players from throughout the state.

After Bowls NSW had honoured the late Henry Gordon into its rarely known Indigenous Hall of Fame in 2016, Towney explained that Gordon was the obvious choice behind naming the new trophy.

"A lot of (Aboriginal) players just couldn't get a run in representative circles when we thought we were good enough," Towney says.

"So we decided why don't we create our own representatives (team) in an Indigenous versus non-Indigenous bowlers and we now name it after Henry Gordon."

The initiative gave not only the proud Wiradjuri man, who had overcome his own personal issues including alcoholism, great pride but also for his culture across the wider Central West area.

Towney, who competes for West Dubbo on Saturdays, had to face a series of defeats in the four-bowler, best of seven rinks tournament before the Aboriginal All-Stars had their first win in 2021.

"It was probably one of the proudest moments of my life lifting that shield," Towney says.

"It was all the time and effort that I put into it.

"I put this together by myself and I get no outside help from being a selector, getting all the teams organised in their positions, down to getting the shirts, going to all the clubs – I am really into everything behind the scenes."

The tournament did not run last year for the first time since the 2020 pandemic year over logistical issues after getting off the ground in 2016.

"They were dominating the first three years of it and when I finally got to lift up that shield, it was a great achievement for our team," Towney says.

"Sadly, we've had a few deaths in our team and bowls is not a really big sport in our community."

But Towney went on to say the "further west you go" from Dubbo, naming small towns like Bourke and Walgett, bowls is "probably the second preferred sport" to rugby league in Aboriginal communities.

Social games of bowls has been found to be a great way to bringing the mobs together, he added.

"Lot of these places don't have Leagues clubs, they haven't got RSLs and they may just have the one club, which may be a sporting club with everything on it like a bowling green," Towney says.

"I played no lawn bowls until I came to Dubbo 30 years ago because where I came from blackfullas weren't allowed in the clubrooms."