"I've never been scared of contact. Now I get to bring it, that's what I love to do, so I'm going to bring it"
About this Quote
There is a particular kind of swagger that only makes sense inside a contact sport: the confidence that pain is not just tolerable, but usable. Reggie Lewis frames fear as a non-issue not to sound invincible, but to declare a job description. “I’ve never been scared of contact” is less brag than biography, a résumé line in athlete-speak. He’s telling you what won’t move him.
Then the sentence pivots from defense to agency: “Now I get to bring it.” That “now” matters. It suggests a shift in role or expectation - from absorbing contact to initiating it, from being targeted to becoming the one who sets the terms. In basketball’s late-80s/early-90s ecosystem, when the lane was policed by forearms and reputations, “contact” wasn’t abstract toughness; it was a currency that decided who got clean looks, who earned calls, who got respect. Lewis is staking a claim in that economy.
The repetition - “bring it... bring it” - functions like a locker-room mantra, the kind that turns anxiety into rhythm. It’s not poetic, it’s practical. He’s manufacturing certainty in real time, for teammates, for opponents, for himself.
Knowing Lewis’s tragically short life adds an unavoidable shadow: the body as both instrument and limit. The quote lands as a snapshot of competitive identity - a player defining his edge through physicality - while reminding us how often sports culture celebrates the willingness to collide without lingering on the cost.
Then the sentence pivots from defense to agency: “Now I get to bring it.” That “now” matters. It suggests a shift in role or expectation - from absorbing contact to initiating it, from being targeted to becoming the one who sets the terms. In basketball’s late-80s/early-90s ecosystem, when the lane was policed by forearms and reputations, “contact” wasn’t abstract toughness; it was a currency that decided who got clean looks, who earned calls, who got respect. Lewis is staking a claim in that economy.
The repetition - “bring it... bring it” - functions like a locker-room mantra, the kind that turns anxiety into rhythm. It’s not poetic, it’s practical. He’s manufacturing certainty in real time, for teammates, for opponents, for himself.
Knowing Lewis’s tragically short life adds an unavoidable shadow: the body as both instrument and limit. The quote lands as a snapshot of competitive identity - a player defining his edge through physicality - while reminding us how often sports culture celebrates the willingness to collide without lingering on the cost.
Quote Details
| Topic | Sports |
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