WATCH ME TRY.

Today is Good Friday.

A day that’s always meant reflection to me—on sacrifice, on doing hard things, and on moments where things don’t look like they’re working… even when they are.

And honestly, it feels like the right day to say something I’ve been sitting on for a long time:

I’m done doing this quietly.

About five years ago, I took on something I wasn’t supposed to be able to do.

I partnered with a golf club—what most people would call a country club—and stepped into a racquets facility that was losing tens of thousands of dollars a year.

It didn’t just lack money. It lacked leadership. It lacked vision. And most of all, it lacked values.

At the time, I wasn’t a “tennis person.” I was a mom, a coach, and a business owner.

My kids were in club volleyball, and I had spent years watching youth sports miss the point.

I had lived it. My sister had lived it at a Division I level.

And I knew—deep down—that sports were supposed to build something in people that most programs weren’t even trying to develop anymore.

So I stepped in. Not because I was the expert… but because I knew what was missing.And it didn’t take long to realize—the bigger problem wasn’t the facility.

It was the people around it.

Some didn’t show up. Some showed up for credit. Very few showed up for the reason we were actually there: to build something that changed how people experience competition, family, and growth.

I made a decision early on that cost me.

I fired the “tennis guy.” The one people thought I needed.

I didn’t fire him because he didn’t know tennis. I fired him because he didn’t know people.

He manipulated the team. He made people smaller, not better.

And he couldn’t listen—because he was too committed to what he had always done.

Not long after that, I sat across from the people who gave me the opportunity… and they told me:

“We don’t think you can do this.”

And in that moment, I had two reactions.

The first one was quiet: Watch me try.

The second one came later—at home, alone.

I cried.

Because the truth is… my biggest fear isn’t failing.

It’s doing it alone.

But I wasn’t alone. Not really.

I found people—the kind you don’t find unless you’re building something real.

Women with heart. Coaches who cared more about people than credit. People rebuilding their own lives while helping build something bigger than themselves.

And together, we created something different.

Not perfect. Not polished. But real.

A place where kids—including my own—didn’t just learn how to win… but how to lose, recover, trust, and grow.

They didn’t become the best in the state.

But they became something more important:

People others can depend on.

And that’s what being an athlete is actually about.

—

I’ve spent 25 years doing this kind of work.

Building businesses. Fixing broken ones. Growing teams. Helping people win—and helping them recover when they don’t.

And for most of that time… I’ve done it quietly.

Behind the scenes. For other people’s names. Other people’s brands. Other people’s outcomes.

But not anymore.

What I am building inside that racquets facility and this club - it isn’t just about tennis. It isnt just about one club. And it definitely is not just about one person or a select group if players.

It was a way of thinking. A way of building. A way of leading.

That applies far beyond sports.

That’s what Kinetic Strategies is.

It’s not one business. It’s not one system. It’s not one place.

It’s a mindset.

A way of stepping into motion—building things that matter, aligning people around real values, and creating momentum that doesn’t fall apart when things get hard.

This is the beginning of me sharing what I’ve learned over the last 25 years.

And I’m just getting started.

Estacar Companies, LLC TGC. Athletics #KineticStrategiesInc