You don’t know me, Mr. Bosh, and I truly do not know you. Though I have admired you from afar as I’ve watched your basketball career unfold, I can’t say that I truly know you. After your basketball career with the Miami Heat began and I started voraciously reading every new bit of information that appeared with your name including (along with Dwyane and Lebron, of course) your achievements on the court and your latest family vacation (congrats on the twins by the way). Even with all of that, I would still be foolish to say I know you, so in no possible way could I know what is truly best for you.

That being said, please retire from your basketball career.

I am not saying give up on basketball, because surely a bright basketball mind like yours has a future on the hardwood as a coach or in the front office should you desire it. If broadcasting is more your alley, surely an intelligent and well-spoken gentleman like yourself would make a great addition to any sports broadcasting network.

But please, for your sake and more importantly your family’s, retire from playing.

When you were first diagnosed with blood clots last season, I was at first worried for your health. Upon learning that your condition was not life-threatening, I was then concerned for your career. However, I was happy to learn that you would make a full recovery after sitting out the rest of the season to recover and going through regular treatment with blood-thinners. I was happy to hear you would play again and be a leader for a team that desperately needed your experience and tenacity. You began the season on a tear and it seemed that once back in shape you could put up even better numbers than you did in Toronto, with a notably improved three-point shot. But once again you were sidelined by blood clots.

You don’t need me to tell you that the clot could dislodge and travel to your lungs or your heart. You don’t need me to tell you that because of your height your body has trouble circulating blood properly to begin with. You don’t need me to tell you that prolonged flights are part of an NBA career and also exacerbate your condition.

But I’m going to tell you anyways.

I need to tell you to remember the example of Hank Gathers who had his own medical issue and decided to play while on a medicinal regimen at the same time. Eriko Spoelstra, your coach, was the point guard for the opposing team that night. Ask him about the silence of the arena and the horror of Hank’s mother when he hit the floor. You’re asking an organization to look past history and allow you to play even when you haven’t been medically cleared. You’re not the one who has to live with the decision if you too fall on the court and do not get back up. They don’t feel comfortable putting you or your family in that position and surely I would find it hard to sleep at night if I were in charge and allowed you to play. You have had two episodes of blood clots in two seasons and it just isn’t worth the risk anymore.

You’ve had a decorated career that I don’t have to recount, but for the record I will. You’re a two-time NBA champion which some legends can’t even say. You were an 11-time All-Star and you lead the Toronto Raptors’ franchise in the following categories: points scored, rebounds, defensive rebounds, offensive rebounds, rebounds per game, rebounds per game, blocks, free throws made and double-doubles. You’ve had tremendous success on the hardwood that many could only hope to achieve. You played with arguably one of the greatest basketball players ever and made it to the highest peak twice. Charles Barkley is probably somewhere seething. That all being said, the accolades you could gain from four-ish years of playing at a high level do not outweigh all of the risks you are taking. You’ve earned plenty of money over your career (between salary and endorsements) and could continue to do so in a coaching or broadcasting position.

There’s really six good reasons that outweigh every single reason to keep playing. Their names are Adrienne, Trinity, Jackson, Dylan, Phoenix and Lennox. Your family needs a father more than they need money or you to be a basketball player. More importantly you have to be there. Every time you step out on that court from here you are flirting with death and risking leaving behind five children and a wife without an essential part of their life. In the end, that should outweigh all of the possible benefits of playing.

You know all of this, and have surely considered it. I’m sure you will probably never read this inconsequential letter, but I felt the need to at least try to do something. I didn’t want to see a player I enjoyed watching and a person who positively influences the world make a mistake that cost them dearly, all while thinking there was something I could have done. I know you love the game of basketball, but I would venture to say you love your family more.

Please, Mr. Bosh, hear the words of your loved ones and the physicians that tend to you. They truly want what is best for you and your family. I hope that even though my words may not find you, someone else’s will. Because I would love to see you sitting on the bench next to your son a la Juan Howard one day.

Wishing you all the best,

Evan McPhillips