Embrace the journey, including setbacks and struggles, as part of growth rather than fighting against every challenge.
Dear Reader,
What you're about to read is a story of transformation—not the kind where someone becomes a completely different person, but the deeper kind where you become more fully who you were always meant to be.
This journey began on a football field at Georgia Tech, where an angry young man learned to channel intensity through his breath but couldn't yet channel the love being offered to him. It continued in the healing waters of Hawaii, where surfing taught lessons the gridiron never could. And it comes full circle in a philosophy called "Accept Love"—the practice of receiving everything life offers, especially the parts we'd rather refuse.
The story you'll read isn't just mine. It belongs to anyone who has ever felt the fierce energy of anger and wondered how to transform it into something that creates rather than destroys. It's for coaches, players, and parents who want to learn how passion and love can be two expressions of the same intense commitment to growth.
My former teammate Bill Curry, who became head coach at Georgia Tech, writes about our reunion in the message that follows this piece. His words remind us that sometimes we have to travel far from home—and far from who we used to be—to finally see the love that was there all along.
This is an invitation to that seeing. This is Accept Love.
Best, Brad
The Football Story
I wish Doug Cooper were here to tell this story. I was a running back in high school at Amityville Memorial—second team All Long Island. I weighed 170 pounds and wrestled at 170. I could make weight with my clothes on. I was recruited to walk on at Clemson, where Frank Howard promised everything except a scholarship.
The University of Maryland offered me a scholarship to attend Greenbrier Military School, where they said I could play running back. After wrestling season, I put on 25 pounds. When I started at Greenbrier, they moved me to fullback, and I loved every minute of it. I ended up with about 10 scholarship offers and chose Georgia Tech.
I trained hard all summer. Then came the first day of practice and a drill that would prove to be the end of my running career.
They placed a tackler every ten yards across the entire football field. The first few guys were blazing fast. Doug Cooper was one of them—he could fly. One of the best athletes I've ever known, he juked and outran everyone. Next was Ray Mendheim. Ray was not only fast, but he could explode through contact. Nobody tackled Ray.
My turn came. I just ran straight into every tackler until I collapsed from exhaustion. As Cooper loved to tell the story, at the next practice there was a number 60 jersey waiting in my locker—I was moving from running back to the offensive line.
So on our freshman team, Ray ran the ball and I played defense.
The first day of spring practice, Bill Curry and I were at the bottom of the depth chart. In the first period, we took turns rushing the pass coverage. We were supposed to go half speed while the offense went full speed.
When my turn came, the blocker on my side hit me in the head with his hand-held blocking shield. On the next play, I went full speed, broke through the protection, and hit quarterback Stanley Gann. Coach Dodd was up in his tower and screamed for nobody to let anybody hit Stanley.
One of the assistant coaches came over and mentioned sending me home. I didn't handle it well.
The Linebacker Drill
All-Pro Maxie Baughan, finishing his degree and helping with spring practice, taught me how to use my breath to hit hard and play with intensity. Under his guidance, I learned to harness breathing to generate power and an intense focus.
But while Maxie's technique helped me excel, it didn't address the deeper anger building inside me. This unresolved rage would lead to my departure from the game. The anger had been simmering for years—frustration and resentment for upsets I did not understnd. Each hit became a release valve for emotions I couldn't process.
Looking back, learning to hit hard was only half the equation. I had to come to Hawaii to discover the other half: how to settle down, let go of upsets, and breathe through my heart to create inner peace.
Hawaii: The Island's Transformation
What experiences in Hawaii opened the door to healing? The ever-present Aloha spirit, genuine kindness, warm embracing water, the intoxicating scent of plumeria and ocean salt. This sensory symphony created space for something deeper to unfold.
Surfing became my greatest teacher. It's about learning to be present with whatever emotions arise. Fear, anger, frustration would surface as I paddled out, but surfing taught me to flow with them, just as you flow with a wave. The ocean doesn't judge your feelings; it asks you to work with what's there.
The breakthrough came at Sunset Beach during an intense session. As I sat on my board watching the sun paint the sky, I felt all my old anger and intensity still there—but transformed. Instead of needing to hit something, I could channel that energy into grace, into connection with something larger than myself.
That's when I understood: the intensity I'd learned on the football field hadn't been wrong—I'd just been aiming it in the wrong direction.
The Philosophy of Accept Love
When gratitude went viral, I noticed these stories focused on challenges people ultimately wanted to face—ones with clear silver linings. "Accept Love" addresses what's missing: finding gratitude for the challenges you truly don't want.
Consider someone laid off from their job. Viral gratitude focuses on being "thankful for the opportunity to find their true calling." But Accept Love asks: Can you be grateful for the raw fear, sleepless nights, ego blow, uncertainty—the parts you genuinely don't want?
This became deeply personal. I ended college angry—like that line from The Graduate about being angry and not knowing why. For fifteen years, I carried that anger to Hawaii, where I learned to surf, got married, became a father, and found myself teaching.
Then, I'm back on sabbatical in Atlanta, Georgia and my former teammate Bill Curry is the head coach at Georgia Tech. Something shifted. I can finally appreciate what an extraordinary experience I had in college—I had received tremendous support that added up to being loved in a way I was never able to recognize. I was too young, too defensive, too focused on what felt wrong to see what was being offered.
The journey from that angry young athlete to someone who can now accept love required learning to embrace not just the challenges I could eventually appreciate, but the raw, uncomfortable parts of growth I genuinely didn't want.
The Practice of Accept Love
To practice Accept Love is to live in the spirit of gratitude that provides awareness while learning to focus on what you want to create. This involves three interconnected elements:
Cultivate Awareness: Maintain gratitude that keeps you focused on creation rather than destruction.
Trust Your Ability: Channel the sensations and expressions of passion that allow you to get the job done and feel joy in the process.
Build Mental Strength: Connect with the truth of what each experience means to you and understand how hard you're willing to work for it.
Daily Application
Morning Gratitude Scan: Identify three things you're genuinely grateful for, feeling the physical sensation of appreciation.
Breath-Centered Focus: Use conscious breathing to stay present with both difficulty and potential.
Passion Channeling: Before important tasks, connect with why they matter to you.
Evening Reflection: Acknowledge what you created, learned, or contributed.
The breathwork technique Maxie taught for hitting hard becomes transformed: Instead of breathing to generate force against an opponent, you breathe to generate presence with whatever life presents. Same intensity, same focus—but directed toward acceptance, understanding, and love rather than conquest.
Learning to Express Anger
For Coaches: Transform frustration into teaching moments. Express passion for excellence through clear boundaries. Model emotional intelligence by acknowledging intensity openly: "I'm feeling intense right now because I know we're capable of more."
For Players: Convert anger into competitive edge. Develop healthy outlets—hit weights harder, run faster, practice longer. Communicate frustrations directly and respectfully with teammates.
For Parents: Express concern, not criticism. Model healthy processing of disappointment. Channel protective energy into supporting your child's resilience rather than attacking officials.
The Circle Complete
Years have passed since that angry young man ran straight into every tackler until he collapsed. The intensity that once drove me to destruction has become the force that creates healing. The breath that Maxie taught me to use for hitting hard has transformed into the breath that carries love.
This is the gift of Accept Love—it doesn't ask you to become someone different. It asks you to become more fully who you already are, but with awareness, gratitude, and courage to receive what life offers, even when it doesn't look like what you thought you wanted.
The football field taught me to fight. The ocean taught me to flow. But it was the willingness to Accept Love that taught me they were never opposites—they were always two expressions of the same fierce commitment to being fully alive.
Today, when I watch young athletes struggling with their intensity and inability to receive love being offered, I see myself in that number 60 jersey. Their journey isn't about learning to be less intense. It's about learning to aim that intensity toward what creates rather than what destroys.
The love was always there. We just had to learn how to accept it.
This is Accept Love: the practice of receiving everything—victories and defeats, praise and criticism, joy and anger—as expressions of life's fierce commitment to our growth. We are always being offered exactly what we need to become who we're meant to be, if only we have the courage to say yes.
A Message from Bill Curry
Brad Yates was too much for me. I was seventeen years old, a college freshman from suburban Atlanta, owned a raggedy 1951 Ford, and was out of my depth in every way at Georgia Tech.
Brad Yates was older, a Yankee, having been to prep school, had big muscles, long blond hair, and owned a beautiful Corvette…GOOD GRIEF! Oh, and another thing: he was clever, reminding us he’d be heading to Hawaii in a few years.
Well, we chuckled, let’s see about that. He beat the odds in every way, earned playing time years before I did, then took off with a year of eligibility remaining…yep, for Hawaii!
Life happened. I played in the NFL a long time, and Brad quietly became a marvelous teacher at Punahou School. I got into coaching, moving up to the role of head coach at Ga. Tech. When Brad called for an appointment I was apprehensive but curious.
When he walked in I knew he was transformed. He was jovial, fun, funny, and brilliant. We talked about our families, careers, and silly memories. I was deeply moved. When we parted we hugged. What had happened? Yes, it was love. Only after that encounter was I free to remember the acts of kindness Brad had displayed in college.
He had borrowed my car one night because his was in the shop. When he’d returned it, it was filled with gas. Nobody did that! When I had cramped so severely after a key game, that I could not walk, he had carried me off the field into the locker room. I had conveniently forgotten his acts of kindness because they didn’t “fit” my profile of the arrogant Yankee.
Thank God he returned, giving me another chance to Accept Love. It was life changing.
Thanks Brad.