Boxing Day used to mean only one thing: the beach. When I was growing up, it was all about recovery. Christmas leftovers packed into the Esky, a battered cricket bat on standby, and the ocean stretching endlessly. It wasn’t a day of plans, it was a day of pause, a communal sigh after the chaos of Christmas.

Then something shifted. For many Australians, the beach started competing with shopping centres. Boxing Day sales arrived with a bang, dragging us from the shoreline to the fluorescent-lit frenzy of bargain hunting. It became its own tradition: hours spent queuing, scanning for deals, and feeling triumphant with half-priced towels or a discounted fridge. Practical? Sure. Relaxing? Not quite.

Not everyone went down the retail rabbit hole, though. There were other traditions to fill the day. Cricket fans glued themselves to the Boxing Day Test, a comfortingly predictable fixture on the calendar. Meanwhile, for yacht enthusiasts, the Sydney to Hobart race delivered its own brand of summer spectacle. Whether it was cricket or sailing, the day was about watching, not doing.

This year, younger generations are making their own Boxing Day rituals. Forget the sales, the beach, or even the Test, it’s all about streaming marathons. Shows like Squid Game are taking over living rooms, where families are binging episodes together, sharing snacks and theories. It’s a quieter tradition, but one that still centres on connection.

Boxing Day may look different now, but the heart of it hasn’t changed. Whether it’s the beach, the cricket, the sales, or Netflix, it’s still about pulling back from the frenzy of life and spending time, however we choose, with the people we care about.