Chris Bosh needed more than two years to find anything close to inner peace with how his love and livelihood — basketball —- was so suddenly snatched from him in 2016.
He was in his prime and peak of fitness with the Miami Heat when the blood clots were first detected. He was an 11-time NBA All-Star far from finished, he thought, with a career that would lead to the Heat retiring his No. 1 jersey and his induction this spring into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.
But then he was done. In an instant.
“It was tough to get over it. Extremely tough,” he told said in a conversation for The Greg Cote Show podcast, released Monday. “It took years. Two years and change to move on. I felt cheated, slighted, like the world was against me, ‘Why me?’ I felt those emotions. I felt ‘em all. Let me not beat around the bush. I thought winning a championship was the hardest thing I ever did in my life. No. Not playing basketball and just yanking the plug out — that was the hardest thing by far.”
Bosh couldn’t, wouldn’t, let go at first. Spent months trying to get back on the court, seeing specialists.
“I felt that team was good enough to compete for a championship [in 2017]. I was so excited. I felt if we can have success without Bron [LeBron James], oooh that’ll do so much for my career. So we didn’t leave a stone unturned [trying to play again]. We tried until I got tired of it. I had to move on.”
The bond and camaraderie in the four years of the Big 3 era is something Bosh holds like a family heirloom.
He recalls the time that bond felt greatest. It was the night before Game 7 of the 2013 Eastern Conference finals vs. Indiana, a game Miami would win.
“I was struggling in the playoffs during the back-to-back years,” he says. “We were in a dogfight with Indiana. Before Game 7, back in Miami, all the fellas came over, and the wives. They all came over to hang out, have a dinner. They all gave me encouragement. ‘Hey, man, we believe in you.’ That was that moment where it was as good as it can get. It wasn’t about basketball. There was no cameras or anything there. It was just friends trying to get the best out of each other. That was the best team ever. A good time was just a moment away. Guys were just hilarious. We loved cracking jokes and talking with each other.”
As with the loss of a loved one, there was grieving on the road to healing when Bosh lost basketball.
Part of that healing is a new book, “Letters to a Young Athlete,” that Bosh has spent the past two years writing and that came out June 1. The first-time author calls the exercise cathartic. The book shares life’s lessons to aspiring young athletes but has an autobiographical feel.
It is about how a kid from Texas whose first job was at a Blockbuster Video grew to become an Olympic gold medalist, a two-time champion with the Big 3-era Heat and a father of five young children ages 3 to 8 with his wife Adrienne, who all now live in Austin.
Bosh is 37 now. His game — big man who can shot three-pointers — would have aged well in the modern NBA. He can talk about that now with a laugh, without regret.
“I’d [still] be playing, for sure,” he said, if not for the fate that stopped him cold. “I could maybe squeak out a couple more years. Just stand over there and shoot it. But I eventually had to get over it. Time helped me get over it. My wife, my kids. You can’t really think about those things when you’re packing lunches for class tomorrow.”
Having his career stopped against his will made Bosh realize for the first time how much of his life had been consumed by his sport.
“I didn’t know how much time was given to basketball. It’s all I ever did. Then, there was no weights, no film, no shootaround. Even [the schedule of] naps — everything was for basketball. It was this whole world.
There was a massive void when that world stopped turning.
“When I had my scare with blood clots I said, ‘Man, what else do I love?’ I wanted to learn to do other things.”
Music was one answer. Bosh now plays guitar and is learning the bass. He and “my Southern Florida brother,” Miami musician Rico Love, have anew single out called, “Different Kind Of Beautiful.”
“Most of my friends are musicians now. Crazy,” Bosh says. “I put enough time into it to where they [hear me] and get the look, ‘Hey, that’s pretty good! I thought it was gonna be trash.’ That’s how it mostly is with athletes trying to do music. I love watching people’s faces, looking at me because the music’s decent. I’m like, ‘chill out, it’s not that crazy!’ ”
Like music, writing was a natural outlet, too, to help fill that void. He has been a voracious reader his whole life. And having young kids of his own, and the experience of fatherhood, made “Letters to a Young Athlete” a natural first book.
“It feels good to have a goal and be working toward something again,” he said of the process of giving birth to a book. “It’s definitely been a great experience being able to try and find my way after basketball. Find that other thing after ball.”
Bosh watched the other day as a Danish soccer player in his prime, Christian Eriksen, fell face first onto the field during a game after suffering a heart attack. There were moments of dread when it seemed he might die on the pitch, on live TV.
Bosh’s mind reeled back five years, to the Heat’s and NBA’s fear blood clots could end his own life right on the court.
“I’m sure that’s what the Heat thought that whole time. I’m sure that’s what Pat [Riley] and Micky [Arison] were thinking.”
When Bosh reflects on it all now, it’s all good. He has his family. His health.
“I had to come to the realization that I had my time,” he says. “I played professionally for 13 years. I can’t complain one bit.”
As for the new book and his own kids? Bosh grins.
“I haven’t made it mandatory reading for ‘em yet,” he says. “Maybe next year.”
