I grew up playing hockey; I was hooked after attending a professional game when I was 3 years old. As a young boy growing up in the 80s and 90s, I was immediately drawn in, not only by the speed and brutality of the game, but also the elegance and creativity laced throughout the chaos of it all. The rush of adrenaline when the puck crosses the goal line, the horn blaring, the crowd erupting — there's nothing like it.
I was fortunate enough to play through college and learned from many great mentors along the way. The one lesson that persisted — made famous by The Great One: skate to where the puck is going, not where it is.
It’s a lesson in anticipation. In sports events — where competition is governed well-defined rules and clear boundaries — it sounds obvious.
In the real world, it's not so simple — the game is infinite, the players and their motivations aren’t always known, and the rules are ever evolving.
Most companies implement strategy like novice hockey players — they skate to where the puck is, reacting to competitors' last move, rather than anticipating the next one; they're always a step behind.
I've seen this play out in boardrooms more times than I can count. There wasn’t a single event that drove me to launch ACSG, but an accumulation of patterns repeated. Brilliant founders trapped in the noise caused by investors, advisors, and armchair strategists who have never competed in the arena.
Most advice is not built for their world — capital-intensive, technically complex, policy-dependent, with long sales cycles and multi-actor markets — and the frameworks plastered all over LinkedIn aren't even worthy of the scroll.
The problem is not a lack of frameworks; it's a lack of clarity. Without clarity, judgment has no room to breathe. That's when it clicked for me: real strategy isn't built on templates; it's guided by purpose and crafted by asking the right questions.
That's what I built AC Strategy Group to do. But why I do it is far simpler.
I've also sat in rooms where stuck companies get unstuck — where a hard question, asked at the right moment, in the right way, brings clarity to the chaos.
It's for moments like those that I do this — to inspire your "aha!" moment.
Most people in those rooms don't ask the hard questions — whether out of fear, deference, or wanting to keep the peace. But growth usually lives on the far side of discomfort.
That's why I ask the hard questions.
What I Believe
The gaps cannot be fixed with a polished deck, a routine framework, or a five-year plan. They require strategy.
Strategy — real strategy — is hard to get right. It lives in constant tension: it must be clear enough to guide action, yet flexible enough to adapt; it must provide direction without telegraphing your moves.
Over time, I've come to recognize the following as core aspects of good strategy:
Strategy is guided by purpose, values, and principles — not goals, targets, or five-year plans.
Strategy has no destination; only direction. Organizations that endure never arrive, but they remain oriented.
Strategy requires comfort with discomfort. The temptation to chase certainty is the enemy of sound judgment.
Strategy is fundamentally individual. It cannot be borrowed, copied, or outsourced. It must come from within.
Strategy is necessarily adversarial — not aggressive, but honest about competition, scarcity, and trade-offs.
Strategy is revealed through action, not words. Action tells the truth that narrative conceals.
Strategy is only required in the pursuit of scarce resources. If you can do everything, you don't need strategy. You need execution.
These tenets don't make strategy easy. They make it clear.
