Waive the Josh Smith in your life

When I found out the Detroit Pistons waived Josh Smith a year after signing him to a mammoth four-year $54 million deal, I was stunned. Stunned because they were choosing to pay the rest of his contract without actually having him on the team. Stunned because I never thought of doing such a thing in my personal life. It’s such a ballsy, genius move that’s so obvious that it gets overlooked. It’s feels like something Yoda would teach.

“Waive or do not waive. There is no success for him behind the three-point line.”

I personally love Josh Smith, because a man who refuses to listen to all reason and evidence of his glaring flaws is a man I can support. To this day, when people tell me that I can be rude and demeaning, I ignore them because I’m not listening to someone I’m better than. We’re practically kindred spirits.

Still, it was evident the Pistons got so much better after waiving Josh Smith. SO MUCH BETTER! They’re playing every game as if it’s a celebration of freedom. I’m sure each player on the Pistons must attend a two-hour therapy session every week where the therapist assures them that, yes, they’re a winning team now.

Therapist: Let’s try word association here.

Brandon Jennings: Alright.

Therapist: Winning.

Jennings: Charlie Sheen?

Therapist: No -- Detroit Pistons!

*Brandon Jennings, shocked, breaks down in tears. The therapist motions him in for a hug.*

The whole situation gave me an idea: Why don’t I just waive people and things in my life that are holding me back the same way the Pistons dumped Josh Smith? Like, just straight remove them viciously. Drop them off at school and never return to pick them up. Change the locks and serve them with a restraining order and a notice that I’ve put out a hit out on them.

I decided I had to do it. I turned on NBA 2K15, went to the Rockets roster and waived Josh Smith. It sounded like the game itself started cheering.

I had to go after the biggest Josh Smith in my life first. I invited her out to a public place like I imagine Stan Van Gundy did to Josh. We ordered coffee. I told her she looked nice and listened intently as she told me about her day. We shared stories about our time together, the years of living together and growing into our own next to each other.

I was not to be distracted, though. When she was relaxed and unaware, I reached into my bag and pulled out a statement, signed by me, that terminated her contract in my life. My mother was stunned, but after weeks of her texting me spam from Facebook and refusing to feed me on the grounds of “you’re old enough to get your own food,” it was the right time. I left the restaurant quickly and refused to look back.

I went to play the lotto right after and won $5,000. Hey, maybe this really works!

Next, I had to waive someone who had me very close to me for a long time. Someone I had trusted with my life every morning for the past five years. A man who knew me better than I knew myself.

I had to waive Tim, my Tim Horton’s barista. It was time. I’m not sure if he didn’t care anymore or that losing his apartment and car in the same month had taken a toll on him, but the fact was that he had fallen off. I walked in, hushed him before he could even ask me if I wanted the usual and told him it was over. I expressed in detail that I was moving in a different direction with the other baristas who were willing to work hard for the team, the ones who still drew hearts on my coffee cups. I thanked him for his years of service and walked out.

As I was driving home that day, I got a text that I was being cast as the new James Bond and that I was now Idris Elba. I was almost angry I couldn’t waive a Josh Smith everyday.

The last Josh Smith for the day was someone who has been holding me back from my weight goals for a while. Someone who, with their delicious personality and knack for being there during the sad times, made it impossible for me to be active.

And I would have waived the box of pizza rolls in the fridge had I not received a call to meet my brother for dinner. I met him with my mind still on waiving those delectable pizza rolls when I got home. He asked me about my day, we talked about the things we had been through together and how much we had grown alongside each other. It was a wonderful time honestly, a much needed break to relax after a day of waiving $54 million big men.

As I got ready to call it a night, my brother pulled out some papers from his bag and informed me that he was waiving me from his life. Before I could even respond, he was out of the door and celebrating wildly in the streets. Amazing.

The lesson here is that waiving the Josh Smith in your life will make you a lot happier. Just make sure you’re not the Josh Smith of someone else’s life.

★★★