Mikey Yablong played men's varsity ice hockey at Wesleyan while studying economics with a minor in data analysis. Today, after earning an MBA at Tuck, he's back at Bain & Company as a Consultant—building the kind of collaborative, high-tempo work environment that feels familiar to anyone who has lived through a small-roster season. The connection between hockey and consulting isn't a metaphor he has to stretch; it's how he's learned to show up: prepared, accountable, and ready to earn his spot every day.
At Wesleyan, Yablong held himself to a high bar because he wanted to help the team in any way he could—starting with the simplest, most repeatable habits. On the rink, that meant competing in every drill and on every shift, and it also meant doing the unglamorous work that keeps you sharp: getting in the gym, committing to Drew Black workouts, eating well, and sleeping well. He's carried that same "do the little things" mindset into his professional life, where clear thinking and good judgment aren't just about intelligence—they're about readiness. For him, taking care of his body is directly tied to how he performs at work. He still prioritizes exercise, nutrition, and sleep because, as he puts it, when his "mind is right," he can "be more creative, ask smarter questions, and develop thoughtful answers."
That focus on daily standards got tested in a way many athletes recognize: the moment you realize you're not automatically entitled to a role. He remembers a game during his junior year when he was scratched from the lineup for the first time since freshman year. It caught him off guard—and it left a lasting lesson. Even if things feel like they're going well, you can't coast. You have to keep earning your place, and you have to ask yourself whether what you're doing is truly enough to make a difference for the group. He doesn't frame that as competing against teammates in the workplace; he frames it as proving—through consistent effort—that you can be trusted with important work, that you're capable, and that you're adding value when it counts.
The same Wesleyan rhythm—demanding practices, tight timelines, and pressure to perform—showed up again in the classroom. Yablong points to the value of building strong foundations: introductory economics, macroeconomics, and courses focused on money, banking, and financial markets helped him understand how economies operate and how central banks shape outcomes. And when he stepped into his first role at Goldman Sachs in private wealth management, the class that felt most directly applicable was investment finance—the kind of course that forces you to think clearly about risk, return, and portfolio theory. For a student-athlete used to reviewing what happened, diagnosing why it happened, and adjusting quickly, the logic of investment decision-making wasn't abstract—it was practical.
Still, after time in wealth management, he realized he wanted a different kind of day-to-day. What pushed him wasn't the markets themselves—those change constantly—but the nature of the job, which he felt was becoming more execution-based than he wanted long term. He knew he was looking for work that demanded critical thinking and problem solving, and he wanted a culture that was deeply collaborative and team oriented—where you simply can't do it alone. When he described those priorities to a friend in consulting, the response was direct: that's the job. Once he joined Bain, he felt the fit. He describes being surrounded by "so many smart, interesting people," and the experience of learning from them as genuinely inspiring. He also appreciated the social element—the kind of shared momentum that feels a lot closer to a team than a solo grind.
One type of Bain work he especially enjoys reflects something hockey players understand instinctively: sometimes you have to get smart fast, in unfamiliar conditions, with no warm-up. He's drawn to private equity due diligence cases, where a team starts with a new market or a new company and has to develop a clear point of view quickly. In the first week, he loves running expert calls—not because you're already ready to deliver the final answer, but because those early conversations help you build the understanding that makes better questions possible. His method is simple and disciplined: get yourself smart so you can ask the right questions for yourself—then ask the right questions for the client—and then work toward the right answers. As knowledge builds, the questions sharpen, the thinking gets more precise, and the work becomes less about collecting information and more about strengthening conclusions and filling the gaps in your logic.
That same emphasis on making insight digestible shows up in how he thinks about analytics and storytelling. While he spent time with Sportsology Group in a research internship, he's quick to point out that Bain is where he's learned the core skill: pairing rigorous analysis with communication that actually lands. In practice, that means understanding your audience—how sophisticated they are, what they care about, what they'll realistically absorb—and shaping the message accordingly. The analysis can be strong and still fail if it's not framed in a way the client can use. His rule of thumb is straightforward: do the work to get to the right answer, then tell the answer in a way the client can actually digest—often, "the simpler, the better."
Outside the pure strategy world, he's also seen how hard it is to move a consumer brand quickly. During his time with The Duckhorn Portfolio, he learned that demand is shaped by countless factors—many outside your control—and that meaningful change rarely comes from a single lever. What you can control is how well you listen. If you want to sell the right products in the right way, you need to find ways to hear from customers and understand what they want and need. It's a lesson that translates cleanly for athletes: you can't control every bounce, but you can control preparation, feedback loops, and how you respond.
And when he stepped into a chief of staff role at Amplify SG, he carried the same "make your teammate's life easier" instinct that defines good locker rooms. He describes the job in plain terms: understand what your CEO does day to day, understand what problems they're solving, and then start taking the right things off their plate so they can stay focused on big-picture decisions. Sometimes that's small logistics—setting up meetings, reaching out to the right people, tracking information. Sometimes it's structure—being a strong note taker, summarizing takeaways, naming next steps, and holding people accountable so the details don't drift. It's not flashy work, but it changes outcomes—just like the parts of hockey most fans don't notice until they're missing.
When Yablong talks about what hockey taught him most directly, he comes back to roles and accountability. On a small roster, everyone has a job, and the best teams put people in positions that match their strengths. That mentality shapes how he works on case teams now: assigning the right person to the right workstream, leaning on people where they're strongest, and also stretching teammates so they can develop. He's intentional about spending extra time with newer team members—walking through how to build a slide or structure an analysis—then letting them try, while staying available to guide them back if they drift off course. And on the accountability side, he's blunt: if you mess up, you own it. Don't blame someone else. Learn from it. Fix it. He still remembers a coach describing him as a "one-timer"—someone you tell once, and it sticks—and he tries to bring that standard into professional life: learn quickly, improve immediately, and don't repeat the same mistake.
For Wesleyan student-athletes who want to follow a path into finance or consulting, his advice starts where good recruiting stories start: genuine interest. Be curious. Demonstrate that you've taken time to understand the field you're pursuing—why you want it and what you think the work actually is. Pair that with networking: talk to people, learn the landscape, and let that learning sharpen your story in interviews. If you're heading toward consulting specifically, he's practical about it: you need to practice case interviews. Preparation matters.
And when he looks back at the arc from Goldman to Bain to Tuck and back, the decision he's happiest about is resisting the idea that success requires staying on one narrow track. He's glad he gave himself permission to explore and build range—an outlook shaped in part by reading Range by David Epstein and embracing the idea that starting as a generalist can compound over time. If he could speak to his senior-year self at Wesleyan, the message would be simple: stay open to variety and new opportunities. Not every path is a straight line—and for athletes who've learned to adjust shift by shift, that's not a risk. It's a strength.
