JOE POSNANSKI

Date: 01/26/01

TAMPA, Fla. -- Nothing fazes Tony Gonzalez. Nothing. People rush up to him all the time, especially here at the Super Bowl, and they say nice things, they hand him a thousand business cards, they offer him all sorts of crazy things -- movie parts, endorsement deals, magazine covers, room keys.

He just smiles through it all.

"You know me," he says softly. "Just kicking back and having fun."

Chiefs tight end Tony Gonzalez figures to be the next superstar in American sports. I'm talking superstar here -- media giant, pop-icon, sports sensation -- like Michael and Bo, like Mia and Shaq. He figures to be the guy who will sell pop to the children and shoes to the kids and star with Jennifer Lopez in some movie called "Deadly First Downs," or "Sweet Huddle," or something.

He has everything. Looks. Style. Class. Aura. Especially aura. Big sports these days are filled with small stars: Athletes who hide from the attention; athletes who think their only job is to play a game and get paid; athletes who act like jerks when the spotlight shines brightly, who think style is a new dance or a fancier dunk or a few more words about their own greatness.

The truth is style is, well, OK, here's an example of style:

"Hey Tony," a reporter says to Gonzalez. "Shannon Sharpe said that you will break all the records. You will be the best of all time. How do you respond to that?"

"Wow," Gonzalez says. "I guess I respond by saying that means more to me than just about anything I've ever heard. Shannon's one of the greats. For him to say that about me, well, it's humbling."

That's style.

Gonzalez just has style. It comes naturally. You've seen that commercial for the United Way where he gets hit in the head with an egg. That's style. He laughs at himself. He doesn't take any of it seriously. When a million people come up to Tony Gonzalez and say "You have a chance to be the best who ever lived," he just says, "Thank you." No ego trip. No extra pressure. Just thank you.

And, make no mistake, Sharpe is right. Gonzalez has a great chance to become the best tight end who ever lived. Truth is, he can do more than that: He has a chance to change the game of football, the way only the rarest players can. Jim Brown changed football with the way he would single-handedly wear down a defense. Lawrence Taylor changed football with his relentless chase of the quarterback. Jerry Rice changed football with his precise routes that were simply impossible to defend.

Like that, Gonzalez can change the tight-end position forever. There have been some great pass-catchers at tight end, like John Mackey and Kellen Winslow and Ozzie Newsome and Sharpe, who for a six-year period averaged 75 catches and 950 yards.

But Gonzalez has blended tight end and receiver into some wild jazz fusion. He blocks better than most of the great ones, and yet he is often split out as a wide receiver. He plays finesse football -- he's still a basketball player at heart -- and still loves the rough stuff. He lines up in a half-dozen different spots and affects the defense like no tight end in the game.

And he is almost unstoppable when there's only one defender, whether it's a linebacker (too slow), cornerback (too weak) or safety (too small).

"He's really something special," says Newsome, who is the Ravens' vice president of player personnel. "He can do so many different things that he's really revolutionizing the position. When I played, people said I was athletic, but this guy is really something else."

There's no limit to Gonzalez, really. This year, he had 93 catches, 1,203 yards and nine touchdowns. It was probably the greatest statistical season a tight end has ever had, and yet there's a feeling around the NFL that we haven't seen anything yet. Gonzalez has the same feeling.

"I'm still so young," he says. "I have so much still too learn. I think I can be much better. Hey, I dropped six or seven passes. I think I can be much better."

People know it. This Super Bowl seems to move with Gonzalez. He's at a half million different parties, functions, everyone wants a piece of the guy. In a Super Bowl without any real stars, everyone looks to Gonzalez. A real star.

"I'm working out already," he says. "I'm excited about next season. It's not like we're starting from scratch in Kansas City. We have the nucleus of a great team. This is no rebuilding job. We can win next year. We can be here at the Super Bowl. Next year."

He is asked whether he would like that Super Bowl hype all around him.

"Whatever, man," he says. "I'll enjoy it, no matter what."