Joe,

The memory of when I was first really concerned about your debate night performance remains loud and clear. It was when I heard those helicopters roaring over my house.

It was midmorning on Thursday – Debate Day. I knew from that air-beating roar it had to be your Marine One and its security escorts, taking you from Camp David to the military base where Air Force One would be flying you to Atlanta for the debate that would start in maybe 10 hours.

Your schedulers didn’t give you a travel day – time to arrive, get settled, get a good night’s sleep, followed by a day to assure you’ll be at your best for this biggest debate of our lives. In short, what you needed to assure that our democracy will be in no danger of being Trumped.

I’m writing this most personal note to my longtime friend (and definitely not writing to my country’s president) because this is the way we always talked with each other, ever since you were a freshman senator and I was a young reporter. We never talked about your career, or what you should do. We talked about things we saw and learned as we did our things in this town: you in the Senate, me covering the rest of government, especially all those presidencies.

Well, Joe, I walked outside, saw your Marine One overhead – and was really concerned about what I thought it meant for your debate night. “That’s Joe Biden!” I told my wife. “He’s heading from Camp David to downtown Atlanta. He’ll be exhausted by the time he walks on stage for tonight’s debate. He won’t be at his best.”

I explained to her that for big presidential moments, White House chiefs of staff like to give their president time to settle in and be comfortable before having to perform. Jim Baker protected Ronald Reagan that way. And Bob Haldeman did the same for Richard Nixon before a big summit. But either Biden’s chief of staff Jeff Zients didn’t do it that way, or he tried but was overruled by his boss.

Joe, I was worried you’d be way too tired when CNN’s debate between you and Donald Trump got started. When that happens, I said, you often speak too fast, slur your words and screw up your thoughts.

A few hours later, I saw something that was even more troubling. When Air Force One arrived in Atlanta, I saw you coming down the jet stairs and toward a reception line of local mucky-mucks. Being the Joe Biden I know, you of course did your small-talk thing with each one of them.

Then it got even worse. You walked over to a crowd of supporters – and dammit, you started working the crowd, small-talking the way you do. I told my wife that after a week of exhaustive debate prep rehearsals at Camp David, you were now straining your often over-extended voice, sapping your octogenarian energy. I hated to see that because I knew you’d be paying a tough price at the debate. Joe, I told her that what you needed was an afternoon of rest and a nap. I said: “I bet he will walk onstage drained. His voice will sound like hell. I’m worried this will be a disaster.”

I wanted to be wrong – bigtime. But from the first question, even your closest supporters knew we were in for your worst-ever performance on this urgently important debate night.

Smartphones erupted with calls and texts. Your biggest fans were asking each other if there is a way – some conventional mechanism – that Democrats can still find someone else to save America and the world from four more years of Donald Trump.

Well, there is one surefire way, Joe. I’m asking you, with great reluctance, but even greater urgency, to give America 90 minutes of your time. Just sit by yourself and watch Thursday night’s entire debate. You’ll see the 46th president as Americans all saw him. But you’ll understand that painful performance is your new permanent reality – and you can’t stuff it back in the tube.

But you can add to it a perfect and patriotic final chapter: a 21st century profile in courage. You can complete the accomplished career of the president who rescued and restored America by announcing you won’t run for reelection after all – and beginning a new career: as America’s newest elder statesman. Then you can lead by counseling a new generation on how we can enjoy the gifts of Joe Biden’s service to his country.

Hoping you will do what you know is right, Joe. All the best, Marty.

P.S.: What I'm thinking is that you know that sure would make Beau proud.

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