Ms GILLARD (Lalor—Prime Minister) (14:01): I move: That the House express its deep regret at the death of Mr Lionel Rose MBE, place on record its appreciation for his outstanding service to world sport and to the Australian community and tender its profound sympathy to his family and friends in their loss. This week our nation marks the passing of a remarkable Australian, Lionel Rose—a man who rose from very modest beginnings to the highest level of international sport, taking the hopes of a nation with him. Lionel Rose started boxing as a 14-year-old in a makeshift boxing ring in country Victoria. It is said, according to one account, that he used to tie his hands up in rags because he could not afford the boxing gloves. However, within two years, he had gone professional and by 19 was bantamweight champion of the world. In that fight in 1968 he was the underdog—the underdog who prevailed brilliantly and unexpectedly in 15 rounds while thousands of Australians listened to Ron Casey's thrilling blow-by-blow live commentary down a very crackling phone line from Tokyo. What they heard was possibly the best ever boxing win by an Australian. Not surprisingly, when Lionel Rose returned, fans turned out in droves to welcome his plane at Essendon Airport and to line his route into Melbourne. And 250,000 more gathered to cheer Australia's latest hero outside Melbourne Town Hall—truly a welcome to rival the scenes with the Beatles. That same year, 1968, Mr Rose's achievements were officially acknowledged by being appointed Australian of the Year, as well as a member of the Order of the British Empire. Few Australians have received such emphatic recognition so quickly or so deservedly. In this golden age of Australian sport, we were not short of heroes—Rod Laver, Margaret Court, Dawn Fraser, Ken Rosewell, and of course the list goes on and on. But there was always something in the style of Lionel Rose that endeared him to the hearts of all Australians. One commentator spoke of his being a true gentleman, others of his exemplary sportsmanship and there was, of course, a winning smile and an easy manner that were just made for the camera and the TV screen. Of course, in a nation with such a complex history as ours, there was a serious side to all of this as well. Lionel Rose's victory came less than a year after the 1967 referendum and offered a hint of what we could be as a nation, touching upon those shared aspirations we later came to know as reconciliation. His was a record of Indigenous achievement that was accepted on its own terms and its own merits, blazing a path for other Indigenous sporting greats like Evonne Goolagong and, more recently, Cathy Freeman. Like them, he excelled without qualification. He was simply the best at what he did. There was no adjective required. By the end of his short but exceptional career, Rose had recorded 42 wins out of 53 bouts, including 12 knock-outs and had had a sparring session with Elvis Presley—a record any boxer would envy. He also made a point of refusing to fight in South Africa, even though the money was tempting—making Rose one of the first sportsmen in the world to stand up to the disgrace that was apartheid. After hanging up the gloves, Lionel Rose went on to record a handful of popular singles. I am no expert on boxing; I defer to the Leader of the Opposition on that. And even if I had taken a sudden interest in boxing as a child, I cannot imagine my parents would have allowed me to follow it, but I do remember Lionel Rose from his singing career. I remember his songs, I thank you and Please remember me—songs which reinforced his fame with many and introduced him to new fans across Australia. The Lionel Rose of more recent years suffered health complications that seem so far away from those earlier, happier times. Sadly, those health issues have ended his life much too soon. Today it is fair to say that Australia has lost a true-blue hero, a model of sportsmanship and decency both in the arena and outside it. But while Lionel Rose's life has been tragically cut short, his is a legend that will live on for generations for Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians alike. His song said 'Please remember me' and today we do.