MIAMI -- When Chris Bosh joined up with LeBron James and Dwyane Wade in Miami, the expectation was that the former Toronto Raptors All-Star would lose the most after the merger. And those expectations were right -- the effect on Bosh's game was dramatic. He gave up a significant number of touches on offense and, for a basketball player, touches are the unspoken currency of the game. Heat coach Erik Spoelstra has gone to bat for Bosh this season, maintaining from the outset that he has been the most essential and admirable player on the team. "Everybody had to sacrifice something," Spoelstra said. "Chris had to sacrifice being the No. 1 option coming here. While we run offense through him, he's not the No. 1, and the No. 2 and then No. 3 option like he was in Toronto." But forfeiting those touches wasn't just an effect -- it was a cause as well. It gave way to a deeper issue for Bosh. He lost his sense of self and had sacrificed his identity on the basketball court. Bosh was no longer a go-to scorer. He was a guy who was forced to carve out a niche on a floor with two of the most ball-dominant players the game had ever seen. If touches are currency, Bosh was bankrupt several times this season. Can we relate? Can we possibly understand what Bosh went through? "Nobody will ever understand it," Bosh said. "Even people that aren't in my position who play in the NBA, they won't understand it. You get a lot of people who think it's easy and think 'Oh, I could do that. They should've had me.' But you never know until you're put in the position." Boo-hoo, you say. But Bosh does not seek your sympathy. He just wants you to consider the circumstances. Bosh used to be The Man, the deserving focal point of the Raptors' offense. For five years of his life, he was the unrivaled face of an NBA franchise. In his final campaign in a Raptors uniform, Bosh scored 24 points per game and used 28.7 percent of the team's possessions while he was on the floor (either by shot, free throws or turnover). Among post players, he controlled more possessions than anyone, and that includes Amare Stoudemire, Tim Duncan and Dwight Howard. Then Bosh did what every fan demands from their on-court heroes: He sacrificed personal glory for the goal of winning the big one. But it came at a cost. Well, he certainly sacrificed shots. We can start there. After taking about 17 field goal attempts per game last season in Toronto, Bosh didn't even reach 17 field goal attempts in a game through his first 10 games in a Heat uniform. He started out the season adjusting to his new confines, struggling to establish himself in the Heat's offense. As the season wore on, Bosh slowly transformed into a skewed version of himself. A gifted inside-out big man who can face up and hit a midrange jumper, or attack his man off the dribble and get to the rim, Bosh gradually migrated toward the perimeter. He grew passive, settling for midrange jumpers and reducing his game strictly to just inside the 3-point line. Before the Heat's eyes, their $110 million man devolved into a pick-and-pop specialist. He wasn't Chris Bosh anymore; he was Jason Smith. The turning point came March 8 after the Heat lost to the Portland Trail Blazers at home, the team's fifth consecutive defeat. Bosh sheepishly sat in front of the media, slumped over in his chair on the postgame podium with his head propped up by his bent right arm. On the court, Bosh obviously wasn't himself anymore and, apparently, he had a lot weighing on his mind. And Bosh let it all out to the media that night. He wanted the ball more. He wanted to be more aggressive. He was no longer comfortable in his own skin on the court. "I haven't been in my comfort zone," Bosh said. "A lot of things are new for me. I'm a big man. I can shoot the ball, but I'm a big man. So I have to get it where big guys get it." And it worked. From then on, Bosh and the Heat took off, winning 15 of the final 18 games of the season. Bosh shouldered more of the scoring load, attacking the basket with newfound tenacity and taking matters into his own hands. He rediscovered his game that made him a perennial All-Star. Looking back on it, Bosh says he has no regrets about that postgame speech. "A closed mouth doesn't get fed," Bosh said. "Sometimes a little pressure is good. I wanted to put a little pressure on myself to make sure that I don't have any lapses. Sometimes when you say something, it works out pretty good." "Pretty good" is a fitting phrase for Bosh. Statistically, he has had a pretty good season, scoring 18.5 points and grabbing 8.3 rebounds with a 19.4 player efficiency rating (PER). Defensively, he's been pretty good at adjusting to Spoelstra's defensive schemes. He's been pretty good this season. But Bosh knows it's not time to whip out the report card just yet. The real test awaits: the playoffs. Bosh has never played past the first round of the postseason, something that sets him apart from James and Wade. In some ways, Bosh's inexperience suggests he has the least to lose of the Big Three. But it also means he has the most to gain. This is what Bosh came to Miami for, to shed the "loser" label and create a new identity for himself. All those lost touches will be worth it, as long as he can get his hands on the golden ball: the Larry O'Brien Trophy.
Sitting on a chair after the last Heat practice of the regular season, Bosh let out a little chuckle at the very thought of it.
"To change your role at this point in your career, it was difficult," Bosh said. "That was going to be the main thing that was going to be tested. 'What are you willing to sacrifice in order to win?'"
Keep in mind, this venting occurred after the 60th game, not in the first game or week of the season. This was supposed to be taken care of.