Introducing Hansel Posts: Brain Dumps Worth Following

Here's the deal: My brain doesn't shut off. It chases squirrels across branches, leaps sideways into tangents, and occasionally stumbles onto something worth writing down. Most people would call these distractions. I call them breadcrumbs.

That's what this is. A Hansel Post.

If you don't know the reference, let me fill you in. In the fairy tale, Hansel drops breadcrumbs in the forest so he can find his way home. Except in that story, the birds eat the breadcrumbs and the kids get lost. My version works better. I drop breadcrumbs so you can follow along. And maybe, if you're paying attention, you'll pick one up and build something useful with it.

What's a Hansel Post?

It's a brain dump. Pure and simple.

Breadcrumbs, not blueprints.

These aren't polished think pieces. They're not carefully researched essays with footnotes and citations. They're the ideas that won't leave me alone until I write them down. The concepts that keep me from focusing on the actual business of solving the communication crisis plaguing youth development activities. The observations that demand to be shared before they evaporate.

I need to clear them out of my head so I can get back to work. You get to see what happens when pattern recognition collides with 35 years of coaching elite junior tennis players, building businesses, and watching industries that should be disrupted but aren't.

Consider this: A few days ago, I wrote about parking lot arbitrage. The concept started at a food truck breakfast in Austin when I saw Waymo autonomous vehicles operating in the wild. Later that same day, I went to a mall to buy AirPods and noticed all those empty parking lots. A couple weeks later, during a walk in Sunnyvale, California, the whole thing connected. Someone's going to make a fortune buying options on that land before everyone else figures it out.

That was a Hansel Post. I wasn't trying to start a real estate empire. I needed to get the idea out of my brain so I could focus on fixing how parents and coaches actually communicate about player development.

How Often Will These Show Up?

No idea.

Could be once a week. Could be three times in one day. Could be radio silence for a month. These posts arrive on their own schedule, usually when my brain is chasing squirrels and stumbles onto something that won't let go until I document it.

I used to chase rabbits. That meant getting stuck in tunnels, backing out, losing the thread entirely. Now I chase squirrels. They move fast, in plain view, zigzagging from branch to branch. You can see where they're going even when they change direction.

That's what these posts are: visible detours that lead somewhere unexpected.

And I leave breadcrumbs. Always breadcrumbs.

What You'll Find Here

These posts won't fit a single category. That's the point.

One might explore why luxury goods markets operate on different rules than commodity markets. Another could be about autonomous vehicles, urban planning, or why most tennis academies are teaching the wrong things. The next might dive into healthcare inefficiencies or educational systems that punish curiosity.

The common thread? Pattern recognition. Seeing connections others miss. Understanding when a system is vulnerable to disruption because the fundamentals have shifted but nobody's adjusted yet.

If you're reading this, you probably think differently than most people. You see patterns too. You chase your own squirrels. And when someone else leaves breadcrumbs worth following, you pick them up and run with them.

The Rules (Such As They Are)

1. No artificial intelligence origin stories. You won't find any references to ideas that came to me at 3 am or during late-night conversations with AI. These observations come from decades of real-world experience, not manufactured narrative devices.

2. These aren't polished products. They're working drafts of thinking. Breadcrumbs, not destinations. If an idea here resonates and you want to build something with it, do it. That's why the breadcrumbs exist.

3. Don't expect consistency. These posts arrive when they arrive. Follow along if you want. Miss a few if you need to. They'll still be here when you get back.

4. Take what's useful. If a Hansel Post sparks something in your own work, that's the whole point. Pattern recognition is only valuable when it leads to action.

Why "Hansel Posts"?

Because I know I'm going to wander. So I mark the trail.

This started when I realized my students needed the same thing I did. On a tennis court, between points, players spiral into what I called the "toilet bowl" of negative thinking. They replay mistakes. They catastrophize. They short-circuit their ability to play the next point effectively.

So I taught them to leave breadcrumbs: rituals that gave them reset points. A towel could hold the memory of what just happened. Checking their strings became the moment to reset breathing. Tapping the fence was putting on their superhero uniform. Each crumb was a way to break the spin and get moving forward again.

I needed the same thing for my wandering brain. Small markers that let me chase tangents without losing the main thread completely. Now when I speak, I'll say out loud: "I'll come back to this." That verbal promise is my hook. It hangs the main thread on the wall so I can explore the tangent, then return exactly where I left off.

These posts are the same thing. They're hooks. Markers. Breadcrumbs left in plain view so both of us know where we've been and where we might go next.

What Happens Next

I'll write these when I need to. You'll read them if they're useful.

Maybe one of these breadcrumbs becomes something bigger. Maybe you pick up an idea here and build a company around it. Maybe you just enjoy watching someone else's brain chase squirrels for a while.

Either way, the crumbs are here. The trail is marked. And unlike the original Hansel and Gretel story, these breadcrumbs won't disappear.

The birds don't eat them. They just sit here waiting for someone curious enough to follow along.

Welcome to the forest. Watch your step. And keep your eyes up. The squirrels move fast.