The Islamic Museum of Australia in Thornbury is a tasteful building with a subtle design that is both Australian and Islamic. Its rusted steel front is perforated with an Aboriginal dot painting. Walking through the freckled sunlight, I meet the receptionist, Wafa, whose smile is as big as the West Gate bridge.

Wafa is a member of the remarkable Fahour family. Her brother Ahmed is the head of Australia Post. Another brother, Ali, is the AFL’s national diversity manager. Another, Mustafa, had the dream of building the museum. Another sister, Samira, was a MasterChef finalist. She runs the cafe out the back.

I’m there to meet Bachar Houli, devout Muslim and Richmond AFL player. When Bachar was 16, he captained the Vic Metro team at the national championships. His roommate liked loud music and had the TV on all the time. In the end, Bachar told his teammate that he was a Muslim and had to pray – could the television go down a little? His teammate was so impressed he got Bachar to talk to the whole team about being a Muslim. That, says Bachar Houli, was “the turning point”.

His best mate at Richmond is its Croatian Australian ruckman, Ivan Maric. Bachar has been deeply moved by the respect big Ivan has shown him. Bachar says all his teammates have been great. I ask him if he likes playing footy. His whole body clenches as he says, “Love it”.

There were two Muslim AFL players before Bachar. Sedat Sir played 24 games with the Bulldogs in the ’90s, Adam Yze retired in 2008 after 271 games with Melbourne. But Bachar was the first to stand up and say being a Muslim wasbasic to his identity. He also says being Australian is basic to his identity.

There is nothing wasteful in Bachar’s manner. He’s straight and he respects straightness in others. Other AFL players are currently holidaying in places such as Las Vegas. Bachar’s running the Bachar Houli Academy, which encourages young Muslim men to envisage a career in the AFL and become leaders in their communities. The first year he ran it, 2012, he had only 25 applicants. This year, he had more than 500.

On Wednesday, the final squad of 30, drawn from around Australia, were shown round the Islamic Museum of Australia, which, to my eye, shows what is graceful and elegant about Islam: its magnificent architecture, its history in mathematics and medicine.

Australia’s Islamic history is traced back to the Makassar traders, who were visiting Australia from Indonesia for several centuries before Europeans arrived, and the cameleers of central Australia who are commonly remembered as Afghans but were actually a lot more diverse than that. Among large, colourful photos in the museum of the great mosques of the world is a photograph of one of the first mosques in Australia, at Marree. It looks like an early shearing shed – mud brick walls, gum trunks for its supports, bark roof.

Bachar Houli tells the young men who attend his  academy that being a devout Muslim makes him a better AFL player. So many of the qualities demanded by the religion, he says, are demanded by the game – particularly discipline. “You get the respect of your teammates by being honest and humble,” he says.

I meet 17-year-old Hisham Kerbatieh, who played this year with the Calder Cannons. He’s respectful and friendly, confident beneath his shyness, and he wants to play AFL. I’m barracking for Hicham, in part because the Australian game needs him. The Australian game, because it’s competing against international codes, needs everyone it can get.

But I’m also barracking for the Bachar Houli Academy because, right now, we desperately need people to walk the bridge in both directions between Muslim Australians and the rest.

Martin Flanagan is a senior writer at The Age.