Recognised with the 2026 Jim Stynes Community Leadership Award, Bailey Banfield supports the Worthy Foundation in creating homes for women and children escaping family violence, Purple Hands in helping young people overcome barriers through sport, and the Starlight Foundation in bringing happiness to seriously ill children. He has also driven Freo Cares, mobilising players, coaches and staff to support people facing hardship across the community. He sits down with Sam Ludbey-Stynes, Stynes' widow, to discuss preparing for fatherhood and considering what comes next in football and beyond.

AT FOUR o'clock in the afternoon, the families would four-wheel drive onto the beach in Broome. Out came the camping chairs, the esky and the sausages for the barbecue. There might be five or six families, with fifteen children between them, and plenty to keep everyone occupied until well after dark.

Bailey Banfield remembers swimming, playing cricket and hunting for ghost crabs. His parents sat talking with their friends while the children entertained themselves.

"I have very fond memories of that," he tells me.

Those of us who have visited Broome can imagine what a childhood that would have been: barefoot on long stretches of white sand, waves rolling in under the sunshine, and all that beauty as your backyard.

When I ask about his wish for his own children and grandchildren to enjoy the natural environment, this is the memory he reaches for. It helps me understand the connection between the childhood he treasures and the future he wants to protect.

Bailey and his wife, Jules, are expecting their first baby. At 28, he is also facing a change he had hoped would come later: being delisted by Fremantle, the club to which he had given nine years of his adult life.

There is uncertainty about what comes next. There is also a life he has been putting considerable thought and effort into building.

Bailey has a calm, considered way of speaking. He takes time with a question. He reflects on where his understanding has come from, and where it has changed. When I suggest that an early experience reveals unusual empathy, he gently offers a less flattering explanation. His willingness to do that makes me listen more closely.

So, I ask, where did he first learn to care?

My own work with the Jim Stynes Foundation is bound up with losing Jim and wanting to continue what mattered to him. But his concern for young people was there long before illness entered our lives.

When I think about where Jim learned to care, I think of his upbringing in a big Irish family. He was one of six children, with eight people sharing a bathroom and toilet. It was a chaotic, busy family home, where crumbs from freshly cut homemade brown bread were forever scattered across the benchtop, alongside a sticky butter knife dripping with raspberry jam.

Bailey describes an upbringing he feels fortunate to have had, with loving parents, two siblings and the freedom to spend his childhood outdoors. Family life roots appear to have given both men experiences they would carry into their work with young people.

Much of his community work involves children whose experiences have been very different, including those facing serious illness. He recognises how fortunate he was to grow up with good health, security and opportunity, and wants to help other children experience as much of that as possible. A safe home, a room of their own and somewhere to play can affect how a child grows up and forms relationships.

"I feel like the impact you can have can be magnified so much," he says of helping children early in life.

His involvement with Starlight began after someone at Fremantle noticed how well he related to and engaged with children. By his own admission, he likes behaving like a bit of a goose with kids and having fun. Becoming an ambassador offered a way to put that natural connection to use.

But one of his earliest hospital visits took him somewhere he was unprepared to go.

He recalls a young person who was not going to make it and was too exhausted to interact. The room was dim and quiet. The parents spoke softly. Bailey remembers being nineteen, standing among strangers, trying to work out what to say.

"You could feel the weight," he recalls.

I ask whether that ability to recognise the atmosphere was something he had always possessed. He pauses over the suggestion. In that moment, he didn't present himself as someone who instinctively knew how to help.

"The vibe of that room was very intense," he says. He was not ready for it, and the encounter affected him deeply.

Experience helped him become more comfortable in those situations. He began to understand what might help, and to recognise how much can sit beneath the surface of another person's life.

For Bailey, being present in those moments has shaped his understanding. So has observing and reflecting on the challenges friends and teammates have faced, and how they have worked through them.

Listening is a recurring theme in our conversation.

At Fremantle, players have shared their stories with the group in sessions lasting five or ten minutes. Bailey recalls thirty or forty over a season. Some revealed things he hadn't known about people he had spent years alongside.

Hearing those experiences helped him understand the person in front of him and appreciate how much of someone's life can remain unseen. It also encouraged him to explore the complexities of the human condition.

"There's something deeper going on here, or there's a layer behind this story," he says.

It sounds familiar to me. At Reach, Jim and his fellow co-founder's philosophy brought young people together and created space for them to share their experiences. Hearing one another helped them look beyond the masks the young people presented to the world. In my conversation with Harris Andrews, the 2025 Jim Stynes Community Leadership Award winner, we returned to asking questions, giving young men space to talk and listening to what they had to say.

There is something uncomplicated and very useful in this emerging pattern. We understand more when we allow someone to tell their own authentic story and share who they are. I have learned that with my own young adult son: to be patient, give him space to speak and listen closely. The less I try to draw things out of him, the more he offers.

When it comes to gender, respect and responsibility, Jules has been an important part of Bailey's learning. A psychologist, she has helped him consider things he once gave little thought to, including the precautions women take around their safety.

"I think my wife certainly helped me be a lot more empathetic and put myself in other people's shoes," he says. Through Jules, he has come to see the challenges and issues women face through a new lens.

He went from an all-boys school into a football club. Looking back, he recognises how much of his life was spent among young men with similar experiences. There were perspectives he simply hadn't encountered.

Through their involvement with Worthy, he and Jules have heard from families rebuilding their lives after domestic abuse. Listening to those families has helped him understand why leaving an abusive relationship can be so difficult, especially when children are involved. It has also strengthened their enthusiasm for supporting this work together.

He has also seen change within football. Having more women around the club, including greater everyday interaction with the women's team, has broadened the conversations taking place. Talking in the corridors, discussing games and getting to know one another gives those relationships room to develop.

Speaking up among teammates can still require judgement. Bailey describes sometimes feeling like "the conscience of the group". In text conversations, he has found a small way to signal discomfort: a yellow or red symbol indicating that a line has been crossed.

I am interested in the practicality of that response. It gives him a way to challenge something while remaining in the conversation. He believes the culture is improving, with education helping players think about how to approach a mate.

His environmental interests have attracted some good-natured teasing, too. Teammates have ribbed him about recycling and the number of bins at the club. It doesn't seem to trouble him much. He cares about recycling the rubbish.

His commitment to the environment extends into his education. Alongside a Bachelor of Commerce, he has pursued a Master's in Economics and Sustainability and wants to continue studying and working to protect the natural world.

He and Jules have spoken about their core values and who they are as people. Those conversations have helped him think about himself beyond his work as a footballer. He is learning Russian because Jules speaks it. There is their much-loved dog, whose barking I hear in the background during our chat, and a baby to prepare for. He makes room for interests that have meaning outside the weekly verdict of a football game.

That takes effort in a profession where selection and performance can make a person question whether they are good enough. Bailey works at staying positive and allowing less room for negative self-talk.

Still, anticipating a difficult conversation doesn't remove its impact.

He sensed his time at Fremantle might be ending. When the meeting came, those five minutes carried the weight of nine years. He had poured himself into the club. Suddenly, the shape of his future was uncertain, he has a baby on the way and much of it felt outside his control.

It brought back something Jim said about retirement. He likened it to sawing off his forearm. He wanted to keep playing, but understood from his coach that another season would probably mean spending much of it on the bench. I remember how difficult it was for Jim to contemplate leaving something so bound up with his life.

Bailey has his own experience to work through. He was surprised by how many people reached out with love and support. That response made the days more emotional than he had expected. It also showed him how much his time there had meant to others.

He feels at peace with what he gave. He has no regrets about his effort. He can look towards what comes next with a smile, even while acknowledging the challenges of the change.

I hope there is more football ahead for him. I believe any AFL club that brings Bailey into its fold would gain someone with the character to strengthen its culture and leadership. His intelligence, empathy and willingness to speak up would be an asset to a leadership group. He understands that connection grows when people feel heard, and he is prepared to do the work that helps a group become closer.

Towards the end, we return to the environment. Bailey talks about meeting our needs without compromising the ability of future generations to meet theirs.

"Without robbing it from them," he adds.

I think again of those afternoons in Broome, the parents in their camping chairs and the children searching for ghost crabs. Soon he and Jules will have a child of their own. There will be someone new to introduce to the places and experiences he loves.

Football has been a huge part of Bailey's life. As we finish talking, I find myself looking forward to seeing what he does with the years ahead. There is still so much he wants to give, and I sense that, in many ways, this is just the beginning for this impressive young man, both on and off the AFL field.