Behind him on an illuminated screen are the words, "The Sir Douglas Nicholls Indigenous Round", and the flags of Aboriginal Australia and the Torres Strait. Neville's telling his new teammates what it means to him to be Aboriginal. His manner is what you would expect from a player of his kind – forthright, without theatrics, sincere. After him, his indigenous teammates Jeff Garlett and Jay Kennedy-Harris will speak.

The idea of the Demons having  "cultural awareness" sessions began with former indigenous players Aaron Davey and Matthew Whelan, both large figures in the club's indigenous memory. Aaron Davey was the senior Aboriginal player at the club up until his departure in 2013.  Now Neville Jetta is. He says one day he'll hand over to Jay Kennedy-Harris. Melbourne has cultivated an indigenous tradition.

Neville Jetta speaks to the 10 Melbourne players like he's with a group of mates out in the bush at night and it's come to the point where you speak the truth to one another. His father was one of 13, his mother one of eight; both grew up on missions.  "We always had to share everything.  Now I've got  wealth I have responsibilities to my parents and brother and sisters. It's not always easy trying to look after them and set up my family."

Jetta belongs to the famous Nyoongar nation of West Australia – the Aboriginal powerhouse of Australian football.  He left to come to Melbourne when he was 18. "I didn't think I knew anything but the first time I went home I was told, 'You're a leader now. You've got to talk for us.' "  Becoming a leader has meant "a big learning curve".

On the screen is the word "Respect".  "Respect is one of the biggest things in my family. You've always got to respect your elders. They pass the stories on and know best – they've mostly seen it or done it before."

Beneath "Respect" is  "Death".  The traditional mourning period for the Nyoongars used to be three months. Now it's two weeks. "That's how it has to be in the modern world." Later, one of the new players asks Jetta a question about the mourning rituals. He says the families move about, retracing the life of the deceased, staying with one another, ensuring no one is left alone. He adds, "I can't remember how many times we did it when I was a kid."

Under  the word "Hunting" are listed the animals hunted by his people – kangaroo, emu, bush turkey, goanna, echidna. Beside the list is a photo of him with a rifle and two recently shot kangaroos. "That would feed my family, and my brother and sisters' families."

He explains that his clan have strict rules for the way the kangaroo is cut up and divided. "Down Kalgoorlie way, they cut it differently." Later, Jay Kennedy-Harris will refer to the ritual that accompanies the cutting up of turtles caught by his father's people, a coastal clan north of Cairns called the Kukulanji. "I'm very much in love with the ocean," he says. His mother is a Palawa from north-eastern Tasmania. It means his personal history covers an extraordinary range of Aboriginal experience. He is young, smart, educated.

Another photo on the screen is of two giant rocks in Nyoongar country known as the Shark's Mouth. Jetta's sitting on the bottom rock, holding his two small children, Nalani (5) and Kyree (18 months).  "I took them back there after last year's B & F (best and fairest night)," he tells his club-mates. "That cave's got tools in it that my ancestors used that are still used. I've got a spiritual connection with that place and I want them to feel it, too."

He is talking about being in the bush when Jeff Garlett, for the first time, interrupts. I met Garlett during his time at Carlton. He's a seriously quiet man. Now he says, "The bush is a meditation for us". Jetta says, "It's a place where you switch your phone off.  The more you're out there, the more you see and hear." He tells them about the way birds and animals interact so that kangaroos recognise from a bird call that humans are approaching.

Afterwards, I talk to Jetta for 20 minutes or so. His career has been one of grimly overcoming setbacks. Not quick, but brave and resolute in close, he has struggled with injuries – as small men who play the game hard tend to do. Four years ago, Neil Craig told him he had to become more consistent. Jetta found consistent training made for consistent form. Last year, Paul Roos told him he had to run out games better. He worked hard at his running, achieving a personal best over three kilometres. Within the club, he is regarded as a leader.

Melbourne, you may recall, stood up during the Adam Goodes drama last year.  At the time, Jetta, Garlett and Kennedy-Harris asked the club if they could strap their wrists in the colours of the Aboriginal flag as a gesture of support for the embattled dual Brownlow medallist. "The rest of the boys jumped aboard," says Jetta. He is "very proud" of what his club did last year.

In the third quarter of that match, he kicked the ball to captain Nathan Jones who goaled, touched the Aboriginal colours on his wrist and raised his arms in solidarity. It was one of the year's great unrecognised gestures.  Neville Jetta describes it as "a pretty proud moment".

His manner during the cultural awareness session is of someone who is simply being himself. I ask him what sort of feedback he gets from the players.  "The biggest thing I get is people saying, 'Why didn't we learn this at school?' "