BATON ROUGE, La. -- It's early November, and Kim Mulkey is reclining on a white sofa in her new house. She has relocated from Baylor to Baton Rouge in one of the biggest coaching moves in women's basketball history. And just hours ago, she won her first game at LSU.
A half-eaten pizza and a newspaper are scattered on a white kitchen countertop nearby, fresh-baked cookies sit next to the stove. Mulkey glances at the television, where two top-10 women's teams are playing. It's opening day of the college basketball season.
The volume is nearly muted, like Mulkey's cellphone, which buzzes with congratulatory texts. Sage, her 4-month-old granddaughter, is the priority, sleeping soundly on Mulkey's chest. Outside on the front lawn, her daughter, Makenzie Fuller, and 3-year-old grandson, Kannon, toss a football in the afternoon sunlight. Mulkey's son, Kramer Robertson, comes and goes, along with friends and staff members.
Grandma Mulkey -- known as "Yaya" to Kannon and Sage -- is at this moment a far cry from the fiery figure on the sidelines, blazing eyes and tortured-looking facial expressions often immortalized on camera. On or off court, the coach's authenticity is both her superpower and Achilles' heel, winning over recruits and fans, and sparking controversy with a bluntness that is as synonymous with Mulkey as the three national titles she won at Baylor.
Mulkey is at the ultimate career crossroads. The 59-year-old Naismith Hall of Famer left a perpetual Final Four powerhouse she built from the ground up in Waco, Texas, and returned 50 miles from her childhood home to take over a program that has fallen into a middle-of-the-pack malaise. It's a homecoming with high expectations: Mulkey doesn't want to just turn around LSU, she wants to turn the Tigers into a national champion.
"I know what I've taken on," Mulkey said. "I understand how difficult it is."
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A half-eaten pizza and a newspaper are scattered on a white kitchen countertop nearby, fresh-baked cookies sit next to the stove. Mulkey glances at the television, where two top-10 women's teams are playing. It's opening day of the college basketball season.
The volume is nearly muted, like Mulkey's cellphone, which buzzes with congratulatory texts. Sage, her 4-month-old granddaughter, is the priority, sleeping soundly on Mulkey's chest. Outside on the front lawn, her daughter, Makenzie Fuller, and 3-year-old grandson, Kannon, toss a football in the afternoon sunlight. Mulkey's son, Kramer Robertson, comes and goes, along with friends and staff members.
Grandma Mulkey -- known as "Yaya" to Kannon and Sage -- is at this moment a far cry from the fiery figure on the sidelines, blazing eyes and tortured-looking facial expressions often immortalized on camera. On or off court, the coach's authenticity is both her superpower and Achilles' heel, winning over recruits and fans, and sparking controversy with a bluntness that is as synonymous with Mulkey as the three national titles she won at Baylor.
Mulkey is at the ultimate career crossroads. The 59-year-old Naismith Hall of Famer left a perpetual Final Four powerhouse she built from the ground up in Waco, Texas, and returned 50 miles from her childhood home to take over a program that has fallen into a middle-of-the-pack malaise. It's a homecoming with high expectations: Mulkey doesn't want to just turn around LSU, she wants to turn the Tigers into a national champion.
"I know what I've taken on," Mulkey said. "I understand how difficult it is."
Read more
