No Handouts, Just Hustle: Mulkey and Levin Crush Pressure, Lead by Example

Paul Riverbank, 12/14/2025From LSU's basketball court to the PGA greens and Intuit's boardroom, this piece explores how grit and composure under pressure—rather than flashy moments—define true achievement.

Well before halftime, though, Mikaylah Williams had seen—and broken—nights like these before. Her driving layup, halfway through the first, didn’t just add to the score; it drew a collective exhale from the building. You could sense it: the game started clicking. LSU, ranked fifth nationally, finally looked like themselves again and pulled away from a determined Louisiana Tech, steadily turning the contest into a rout, 87-61. Kim Mulkey, not one for dramatics, barely reacted. But for her, this wasn’t just any other win on the schedule. Coaching against her old stomping grounds, the Lady Techsters, can tug at old loyalties in odd ways.

Afterward, Mulkey mentioned, as she often does, the futility of fussing about the early going. “First quarters don’t define you,” she reminded her players. That’s the thread she pulls each time stress looms: gather, reset, get to work. There’s something about her leadership that’s less about quotations or playbooks, more about endurance—perhaps a holdover from her own playing days, first for Louisiana Tech and now for a program with expectations wound tight around the idea of toughness.

Resilience, as it turns out, echoes well beyond basketball. On a wind-smoothed layout at Sawgrass Country Club, pro golfer Spencer Levin had his own proof-of-life moment. At 41, and with two decades worth of road miles on his swing, Levine charged through the Q-School Finals’ third round, penciling in a 63 he hadn’t sniffed for years. It vaulted him into sixth—agonizingly, just outside the cut line for the five who would clinch a PGA Tour spot.

Levin’s a study in persistence, rarely front-page news, but always visible if you care to look: gritty, self-made, with a batting stance kind of grip that some coaches once tried (and failed) to iron out. He was a baseball kid, until golf—plus Tiger Woods, circa ’97—seduced him. Low amateur at a brutal U.S. Open in 2004, then pro the following year; he’s scraped together a Korn Ferry win and nearly $9 million in earnings, yet the dots to the sport’s top tier never quite connect. “Show up, execute,” he laughs, quick to shoo off proclamations about secrets or formulas. Tomorrow, or maybe the one after that, the putt might drop—and everything could change in half a minute.

Pressure, of course, seeps into business suits as easily as uniforms. Take Intuit: the software giant behind TurboTax and Credit Karma recently released quarterly results that didn’t land with a dramatic splash, but with the kind of steady progress that tends to win over analysts. Revenues inched up four percent. More impressively, Credit Karma outpaced all forecasts by $70 million—a surprise that shifted some market conversations. TurboTax Live brought in roughly 2.8 million hopefuls trying to wrestle a little certainty from tax season’s chaos. No wild celebration followed, but Intuit’s leaders nudged up future estimates and called it good. Not flashy, but in difficult markets, steadiness itself is a signal of strength.

Maybe this is the common thread: not the highlights themselves, but the work that strings them together. For Williams, that meant not drifting out of the offense, even while the Tigers got bogged down. For Levin, it was constant tweaks—loosening a grip, slowing a takeaway—performed in solitude, away from the roar. Mulkey keeps her players eyes-ahead quarter by quarter, scoreboard be damned. Even Intuit thrives on methodical updates, product releases, gradual refinements—the wins that accumulate almost in secret.

In the end, the pressure never gives up its hold, regardless of the arena. You show up. You patch together effort atop effort, sometimes in obscurity, hoping one of them tilts things your way. No guarantees—just the old grit and a willingness to keep teeing it up.

The hush in Baton Rouge, that charged sort of waiting people recognize just before something gives, pressed in around the courtside seats. LSU’s fans—there in restless clusters—tried to will the basketball into the net, each miss early on ratcheting the tension up a notch. By the time the Tigers’ shots seemed to flirt with the rim only to roll away, the whole Smoothie King Center felt tight as a drum.Well before halftime, though, Mikaylah Williams had seen—and broken—nights like these before. Her driving layup, halfway through the first, didn’t just add to the score; it drew a collective exhale from the building. You could sense it: the game started clicking. LSU, ranked fifth nationally, finally looked like themselves again and pulled away from a determined Louisiana Tech, steadily turning the contest into a rout, 87-61. Kim Mulkey, not one for dramatics, barely reacted. But for her, this wasn’t just any other win on the schedule. Coaching against her old stomping grounds, the Lady Techsters, can tug at old loyalties in odd ways.Afterward, Mulkey mentioned, as she often does, the futility of fussing about the early going. “First quarters don’t define you,” she reminded her players. That’s the thread she pulls each time stress looms: gather, reset, get to work. There’s something about her leadership that’s less about quotations or playbooks, more about endurance—perhaps a holdover from her own playing days, first for Louisiana Tech and now for a program with expectations wound tight around the idea of toughness.Resilience, as it turns out, echoes well beyond basketball. On a wind-smoothed layout at Sawgrass Country Club, pro golfer Spencer Levin had his own proof-of-life moment. At 41, and with two decades worth of road miles on his swing, Levine charged through the Q-School Finals’ third round, penciling in a 63 he hadn’t sniffed for years. It vaulted him into sixth—agonizingly, just outside the cut line for the five who would clinch a PGA Tour spot.Levin’s a study in persistence, rarely front-page news, but always visible if you care to look: gritty, self-made, with a batting stance kind of grip that some coaches once tried (and failed) to iron out. He was a baseball kid, until golf—plus Tiger Woods, circa ’97—seduced him. Low amateur at a brutal U.S. Open in 2004, then pro the following year; he’s scraped together a Korn Ferry win and nearly $9 million in earnings, yet the dots to the sport’s top tier never quite connect. “Show up, execute,” he laughs, quick to shoo off proclamations about secrets or formulas. Tomorrow, or maybe the one after that, the putt might drop—and everything could change in half a minute.Pressure, of course, seeps into business suits as easily as uniforms. Take Intuit: the software giant behind TurboTax and Credit Karma recently released quarterly results that didn’t land with a dramatic splash, but with the kind of steady progress that tends to win over analysts. Revenues inched up four percent. More impressively, Credit Karma outpaced all forecasts by $70 million—a surprise that shifted some market conversations. TurboTax Live brought in roughly 2.8 million hopefuls trying to wrestle a little certainty from tax season’s chaos. No wild celebration followed, but Intuit’s leaders nudged up future estimates and called it good. Not flashy, but in difficult markets, steadiness itself is a signal of strength.Maybe this is the common thread: not the highlights themselves, but the work that strings them together. For Williams, that meant not drifting out of the offense, even while the Tigers got bogged down. For Levin, it was constant tweaks—loosening a grip, slowing a takeaway—performed in solitude, away from the roar. Mulkey keeps her players eyes-ahead quarter by quarter, scoreboard be damned. Even Intuit thrives on methodical updates, product releases, gradual refinements—the wins that accumulate almost in secret.In the end, the pressure never gives up its hold, regardless of the arena. You show up. You patch together effort atop effort, sometimes in obscurity, hoping one of them tilts things your way. No guarantees—just the old grit and a willingness to keep teeing it up.