{"product_id":"letters-to-a-young-athlete-isbn-9781984881809","title":"Letters to a Young Athlete","description":"\u003cb\u003eA legendary NBA player and beloved teammate shares his hard-earned wisdom about finding your true purpose and mastering your inner game, whatever that game might be.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChris Bosh is on any list of the Top 100 NBA players of all time--an eleven-time All Star, two-time Finals winner, Olympic gold medalist, and currently the league's Global Ambassador. Always an uncommonly philosophical NBA star, he found himself needing all the mindfulness he could muster in 2017, when his career was cut short at its prime by a freak medical condition. Suddenly, he was thrown out of the work that had given so much more than just a livelihood, and had to think deeply about his  identity in the world. This game had taught him so much; what could he make of it all? \u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Out of that place of deep reflection has emerged an uncommon book for a retired superstar to write. While it has the best elements of a memoir--the portraits of the great players and coaches, from LeBron and Kobe to Pat Riley and Coach K, and the accounts of extraordinary competitive moments--it is really a wisdom book, a blend of \u003ci\u003eThe Inner Game of Tennis\u003c\/i\u003e, Wynton Marsalis's \u003ci\u003eTo a Young Jazz Musician\u003c\/i\u003e, and Rilke's \u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young Poet\u003c\/i\u003e. It is rich with insight about basketball, but even richer with insight about life. It's a book about finding a purpose that is deep and real, not shallow and external, and about navigating success and failure as the twin mirages they are--pushing past fear, past ego, past fatigue to the pure flow of sustained accomplishment in a mesh with teammates who have given themselves to the same thing. Chris Bosh found that flow, and sustained it at the highest level. He misses basketball keenly still, but he has no regrets. Deep, honest, unflinching, this book is his friend's hand up to those coming up behind, whatever their pursuit might be.“I highly recommend [\u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young Athlete\u003c\/i\u003e] if you have a kid interested in basketball or if you yourself want to know a little bit more about what it takes to become a champion in any aspect of your life.” —\u003cb\u003eRachel Nichols, ESPN\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Chris Bosh, one of the smartest pro athletes of my life . . . goes deep on so many topics. . . . [\u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young Athlete\u003c\/i\u003e] is so smart, so thoughtful.” —\u003cb\u003eColin Cowherd\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“On the court, Chris Bosh was a rare superstar who put his team above himself. His book is a wise, candid look behind the scenes at what made him great and how he made others even greater. It should be required reading for up-and-coming athletes—and their parents, teachers, and coaches too.” \u003cb\u003e—Adam Grant\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003e#1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThink Again\u003c\/i\u003e and host of the TED podcast WorkLife\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“CB was the ultimate teammate and competitor. As his coach, I learned so much about leadership, sacrifice, and persevering through great challenges and adversity. His basketball experiences are deep and loaded with life lessons. Whether you want to improve as an athlete or just gain more thoughtful perspective on this game of life, you will be inspired by this book!” \u003cb\u003e—Coach Erik Spoelstra\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young Athlete\u003c\/i\u003e is a thoughtful, helpful manual for aspiring athletes to follow. The strength of the individual is the team and the strength of the team is the individual. Chris Bosh says all that and more to young athletes.” \u003cb\u003e—Phil Jackson\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Chris Bosh understands the complex reality of becoming a champion, and his book will show you how to navigate those challenges and win.” \u003cb\u003e—Tim S. Grover\u003c\/b\u003eChris Bosh fell in love with basketball at an early age and earned the prestigious “Mr. Basketball” title while still in high school (Lincoln High School) in Dallas, Texas. A McDonald’s All-American, Bosh was selected fourth overall by the Toronto Raptors after one year attending Georgia Tech. By the end of his basketball career, he was an 11-time NBA All-Star, 2-time Champion and the NBA’s first Global Ambassador of Basketball. In March of 2019, Bosh's #1 Jersey was officially retired for the Miami Heat, and he was inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 2021. In addition to his basketball career, in 2010 Team Tomorrow was founded as a community-uplift organization. Bosh regularly speaks to youths about the benefits of reading, coding and leadership. Bosh, his wife Adrienne, and their five children reside in Austin, Texas.\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eIntroduction\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe last thing you probably want is another voice in your head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI get it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere’s a lot coming at you these days. Whether you’re a once-in-a-lifetime talent just arriving in the pros, or an ordinary kid in  an after-school  league;  whether  you’re  playing  basketball  or lacrosse,  throwing  a  shotput  or  suiting  up  as  a  tight    end—or whether you’re trying to excel in the classroom or start a career—you’ve got a lot of people coming at you.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCoaches.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCrushes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTeammates.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTeachers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eParents.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePeers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe crowd.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere can also be recruiters, reporters, haters, and on and on. And then there’s the toughest voice of all: the voice inside your own head. Nothing can intimidate you like that voice. Nothing can mislead you, shame you, puff you up, lead you astray, or keep you down quite like the running monologue between your own two ears.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut wherever they come from, all of those voices have some-thing in common. Everybody thinks they know. They all want to tell you  something—want to cop a few seconds to get in your ear. Or maybe they’re firmer than that: \u003ci\u003eSit  your  ass  down,  kid. You better listen to me.\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo here I am, another voice in your ear. What makes me any different?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBecause I know. I don’t just think I know. I’ve been there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd  where  is  “there”?  It’s  where  you  are  right now—high school, college,  rookie—and where you want to go. I’ve been the kid in the driveway practicing buzzer-beaters and the guy in front of sold-out crowds hitting them, and neither all that long ago.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI remember what it was like to love the game. To break some kid’s ankles on a crossover or drain a deep shot and realize, \u003ci\u003eMaybe I’m  not  like  them.  Maybe  I’ve  been  given  something  special\u003c\/i\u003e.  I  remember what it was like to see that talent reflected back in the eyes of coaches and teammates, to realize that I had a future in basketball. I remember that hunger to make it, to get out of my hometown  and\u003ci\u003e make  it\u003c\/i\u003e.  I  remember  being  barraged  by  all  the same  people  barraging you—about  homework,  about  planning for the future, about sportsmanship, about being a team leader, about not hanging out with the wrong crowd, about trying hard, about the way you dress or the music you listen to, about everything that young athletes have always been hassled about.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI  started  playing  baseball  and  basketball  early.  I  was  always tall. From maybe fourth grade on, basketball was more or less my life.  I  was  Texas  high  school  player  of  the  year  and  an All-American before I was recruited by multiple colleges.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’ve  been  there.  I’ve  been  somewhere  I  imagine  you  want  to go, even if it’s the most unlikely of fantasies. I’ve heard thousands of people scream my name at once. I’ve been mobbed in the streets  of  foreign  countries.  I’ve  run  out  of  the  tunnel  onto  an NBA court for a Game 7. I’ve \u003ci\u003ewon \u003c\/i\u003eGame 7s. I’ve seen the confetti fall from the rafters. I played long enough to see my own jersey get raised up there, where it will hang forever.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI  also  avoided  the  trouble  that  a  lot  of  athletes  get  into.  I learned a lot about the game and about life. I know about heart-break and pain, too. I made it to the pros and climbed to the very top  of  the  profession  I  had  worked  my  entire  life  to  be  a  part  of . . . only to suddenly lose it all when the thing that got me  there—my    body—betrayed  me.  A  surprise  blood  clot  in  2016 meant I would never again lace up my sneakers and play basket-ball in the NBA.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI  was  Bo  Jackson,  undone  by  a  hip  injury.  I  was  Dajuan Wagner, forced to retire early because of Crohn’s disease. I was Jay Williams, severely injured in a motorcycle crash before his rookie year in the NBA. I was a million athletes you never heard of, because they were cut down before their prime. I was one of those athletes whose career didn’t end soaked in champagne, celebrating a championship, or even in tears on the court. Instead, mine ended in a doctor’s office in the middle of the afternoon. My playing days ended with a whimper, the slow drip of test results, doctors, and lawyers arguing over clauses in contracts over email.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs I write this, a part of me wishes I was still out there in the mix, chasing rings, but my dad always told me that when God closes  a  door,  He  opens  a  window.  Our  conversation  here  is  a window  for  me.  A  window  to  explore  the  game  from  another angle and to give something back to the game that has given so much to me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBelieve  me,  I  get  that  you  probably  don’t  want  to  listen  to another  person  right  now,  but  if  you  can  make  room  for  one more voice—for  my voice—I think I can help you get where you want to go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’ve had lots of coaches. I’ve been lucky to play for some of the  best—Erik  Spoelstra,  Coach  K,  Pat  Riley,  Mike  D’Antoni.  I’ve had coaches pull me aside and whisper exactly what I needed to hear at pivotal moments in a game, and in my life. I’ve had some pretty  awful  coaches  in  my  life, too—the  ones  who  don’t  have any motivational techniques beyond “yell louder” and “get more in their face.” I’ve been screamed at by a lot of people. I tried to think about it the other  day—the average attendance for an NBA game  is  about  18,000,  and  I  played  in  982  games  in  my  NBA career.  Add  it  all  up,  and  that  means  I’ve  had  something  like \u003ci\u003e17 million\u003c\/i\u003e fans screaming at me \u003ci\u003ein  person\u003c\/i\u003e—not to mention the millions more screaming at me through their TV.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe point is, I know about noise, and that’s not what I’m going to throw at you.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere’s too much at stake.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou see, you’re at a crossroads in your life. You have two paths ahead of you, and you can only take one. I want to make sure you take  the  right  one,  the  one  that  helps  you  get  the  most  out  of yourself, out of your potential, out of this  game—whatever that game is for you. Whether you’re staying at the gym hours after practice to work on your shot or cramming for an AP exam, I can help you get the most out of that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLooking back, what really gives me vertigo is to think of those moments  when  I  easily  could  have  listened  to  the  wrong  voice. Where at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, even  twenty-seven, I could’ve messed things up forever with one wrong step. One moment of indulging the devil on my shoulder, and my life, my career, could have gone in a very different direction. My entire  future—years in the pros, an Olympic gold medal, two championship  rings—suddenly erased. And worse, like so many talented kids out there, I might never have even known what I had unwritten. Would I have my kids? Have my creativity? Would I even be here, alive? I was lucky in that way. I want you to be lucky, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne  of  the  lucky  moments  for  me  was  a  conversation  I  still remember like yesterday. I was in high school, at the  gym—I was always at the gym, I loved  it—and my coach Thomas Hill asked me the kind of question most young kids never get, but almost always need.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCoach had been walking me through a drill. Maybe it was a low-post drill designed to teach the footwork for the jump hook, one of the most simple and devastating back-to-the-basket moves in all of basketball. They say you play like you practice, and for a low-post move like the jump hook to work, you’ve really got to commit, you’ve got to establish your position, get your footwork down, and get maximum arm extension to hopefully get you an easy two. Or maybe we were working on inbounding the ball and he was right up in my face, trying to flood me with pressure. Anyway, I must have been having a good workout because sud-denly Coach Hill stopped everything, looked me in the eyes, and said, “What do you want to do with this, Chris?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhat do I want to do with this? Man\u003c\/i\u003e, I thought,\u003ci\u003e I am doing this. Don’t you see me playing?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI stammered and stumbled a bit, thinking he wanted to hear about my goals for that very drill or maybe my goals for basketball. I explained I was maybe hoping to win a state championship or get a college scholarship, thinking that, of course, that’s what every coach wants to hear. But he was thinking much bigger. He was  thinking  beyond  the  game. \u003ci\u003eNah\u003c\/i\u003e,  he  said, \u003ci\u003eI’m  talking  more than that\u003c\/i\u003e. He wanted me to think bigger, too. What did I want to do with my life? Who did I want to be? How could basketball help  me  get  there?  Where  could  my  talents  take  me  and  where could I go if I really sold that first step and put everything I had into driving toward my goals?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo matter what kind of talent you’ve been blessed with, you still have to answer the same question: What do you want to do with this? Where are you going, and how can you use what you’ve been given to get there?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat conversation changed my life, and a big reason I’m writing  this  book  is  that  I  want  to  ask  the  same  question  of  you. However you answer it, answer it honestly—and I’ll try to give you some honest advice about how I think you can get there. I don’t want this to be just another noise in your ear—I want it to be one of the voices that matters. I want it to be like the conversations that helped me harness my talent, that helped me come to peace  with  the  early  end  to  my  career.  I  want  it  to  be  like  the conversations  that  happen  between  coaches  and  kids  in  locker rooms and in gyms, on buses to road games, and on the bench in the  fourth  quarter.  The  great  coach  John  Wooden  once  said, “What you are as a person is far more important than what you are as a basketball player.” And I’ve been fortunate to have been surrounded by countless coaches, mentors, and teammates who lived by those words.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou’ll notice this book is called \u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young Athlete\u003c\/i\u003e. I’m writing it to you as a kind of letter. It’s modeled on some of my favorite books, like \u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young Poet\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young Jazz Musician\u003c\/i\u003e. Those might seem like strange books for a basketball player to be reading, but I love  learning—from anyone who can teach me. I hope I can share some of that love with you. I also hope I can pass along some of the timeless wisdom I’ve picked up along the way. One of the things the poet Rilke taught me is that part of being wise is accepting you don’t have all of the answers right now—and that’s OK. It’s OK to be full of questions. “Try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language,” he wrote in \u003ci\u003eLetters to a Young  Poet\u003c\/i\u003e.  “Don’t  search  for  the  answers,  which  could  not  be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou  don’t  have  to  know  right  now  what  you  are  going  to do with the talent you’ve been given. You don’t need to know where you’re going to end up, or where you’re going to find the strength you need along the way. Live, keep your love of the game close to you, and you can live yourself into the answers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere  isn’t  a  roadmap  to  get  you  there,  but  Rilke’s  advice, which  I’ve  tried  to  take  to  heart,  is  that  you  have  to \u003ci\u003elive  everything\u003c\/i\u003e. What that means to me, as an athlete, is that your game—whatever it is—has to be more than a means to an end. Sure, you run the drills in practice because you want to win the games. You want to win the games because you want all of the good things that come with  winning—trophies, pride, money, whatever. But if  you  don’t  stop  to \u003ci\u003elive \u003c\/i\u003ewhat  you’re doing—if  you  don’t  make space  to  experience  the  joy  of  the game—you’re  missing  something. You’re missing the \u003ci\u003ebiggest thing\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd here’s what’s really special: You don’t have to be a pro to experience those moments. There are plenty of pros who play the game mechanically and joylessly, and right now there’s some kid shooting hoops at the local Y who could teach us all something about what it means to find joy in the game. Whatever our game of  choice,  whatever  kind  of  talent  we’re  blessed  with,  wherever we’re  hoping  the  game  will  take  us,  we’re  all  the  same  when  it comes to this: We all have that capacity to stop and experience the joy of what we’re doing. As you’ll see in these letters, that’s gotten me through a lot of hard times. My wish for you is that when you look back on your playing days, you’ll be able to say the same.","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300806381797,"sku":"NP9781984881809","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781984881809.jpg?v=1767731377","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/letters-to-a-young-athlete-isbn-9781984881809","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}