Gonzalez built his KC persona with looks, money, charm

By WRIGHT THOMPSON
The Kansas City Star

RIVER FALLS, Wis. — The face, that’s what makes him different from the bruisers, from some Mark Bavaro type with blood-stained tape on his knuckles. Tight ends don’t become the most visible person on a team, unless. … Hey, there’s no way around it, fellas: Tony Gonzalez is a good-looking man. His mug is angular, handsome, and — yes, we know the mail that’s gonna come in over this one, not to mention the interoffice hazing — sorta delicate.

His face has made him the most famous man in Kansas City since George Brett, and turned his credit-card-on-the-bar nights at Mi Cocina into the stuff of 20-something KC legend. Everyone’s seen Tony G out and, more often than not, been greeted with a smile (attractive ladies, a bit more).

That’s not an accident. He’s been working on making other people feel at ease around him, just another way to increase the worth of his most valuable asset — his persona.

“This is my new motto,” he says. “In the offseason, I learned to treat people like they’re old friends of mine. Pretend like I’ve known this person forever. Whether it’s kids, or dealing with fans. I guess when I take that approach, it’s helped me out a lot. I don’t feel uncomfortable in those situations.”

Then Tony looks at you and smiles, his tone conversational. You realize he’s pulling a trick on you, and doing it so well that you don’t really care, convinced that this is different and he actually likes doing this interview. It’s not a gift; it’s a learned skill. He’s constantly improving himself, devouring books of daily affirmations, of motivations. He’s analytical, always watching, always cataloging. Actually, it’s kinda freaky.

“That’s part of my deal,” he says. “I watch everybody around me. I’m really big on the hidden determinants of human behavior. I wanna see why people act the way they do and what motivates people and how can I apply that to my life.”

During the offseason, his busiest of all, that studying paid off. He felt at ease, becoming adept at living the high-flying lifestyle his face and sure hands provide.

This journey — transforming himself from talented athlete into mogul — began in 1999. He’d made his first Pro Bowl, and the offers poured in. He couldn’t keep up, with any of it. He felt like he’d gone on vacation and left something at home. Felt like that 24-7.

“I was having trouble balancing stuff back then,” he says — then he laughs out loud, thinking of his current schedule, booked through the end of the season; he can literally find out what he’s doing at 2:26 p.m. on, say, Nov. 24.

He formulated a plan. He hired a personal assistant to handle all his scheduling. He’d turn his incredible talent and his shiny personality and, yes, his Hollywood good looks into a second career. He’d turn his face into a commodity, then he’d sell, sell, sell.

Like everything he’s ever done, this didn’t happen by happenstance. Gonzalez isn’t a man of idle threats. When he wants to learn Spanish, he moves to Mexico for a bit. Dealing with his off-the-field opportunities is the same. Today, his coaches and teammates marvel at his juggling.

“What I see with Tony is a guy that’s not distracted by anything,” Chiefs coach Dick Vermeil says as camp begins.

He’s got help. Team Tony is a large group now. There’s his sports agent. His marketing guys. His assistant. His assistant’s assistant. His Hollywood agent. People who handle the travel company he’s set up.

This past winter and spring, he went around to meet with corporate boards, working on business deals for a life after the games end. He felt like a rookie again. He liked that. It’s why he enjoyed going to Portugal a while back; it was the first place he’d been in ages where people didn’t recognize him.

“My career is winding down, so I’ve been creating opportunities for myself,” he says. “So I’ve got to take meetings. I’m starting out again as a beginner. I’m going in there doing PowerPoint sessions in a meeting while we’ve got a projector up there: ‘This is what we think we can do for your company.’ To a CEO of a company that does $200 million in sales a year.”

Just a few years ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of talking to corporate executives. He was living a rap video.

“When I was young?” he says, laughing. “I was going out every night. I was 21, young, single, a millionaire. People knew me. I was out there having a good time, drinking. I’ve been in situations where maybe, potentially, something wrong can happen and other situations it’s gone wrong with other guys. I’ve been lucky, I think.”

Even then, he was watching how other people carried themselves. At a team luncheon early in his career, he saw friend and then-teammate Donnie Edwards give a speech. The thing was awful. Just a total disaster.

“You know what he told me before he went up there?” Gonzalez says. “He said, ‘I’m just gonna go up there and wing it.’ I said: ‘Cool. Good luck. See what happens.’ ”

Part of Gonzalez still thought he could sneak by on charisma. Four years into the league, a speech to a company in Kansas City about leadership brought down his façade. He figured he’d smile and wink his way to a quick payday.

“I bombed,” he says. “I was horrible. I wasn’t prepared. I’m glad that happened because it was embarrassing, and it taught me that there’s no such thing as winging it. You can’t wing anything. Everything takes preparation, especially talking to people. Whatever it is in life, you’d better be prepared.”

So he began taking notes. He now has files going, with speeches in constant evolution for different groups. One on teamwork. One on motivation. Another especially for kids. He picked other stars’ brains, like Peyton Manning’s. He worked at it, and, about six months ago, Gonzalez finally felt he’d come full circle.

“So this year, at the Super Bowl,” he says, “I went and talked to a company, and I was up there for 30 minutes. Dazzling them. Telling ’em jokes. Giving ’em good points. And I think they liked it. I felt good about that. I went in there prepared. I wrote everything down.”

He’s smiling, doing his old-friend bit. He has one point he wants to see in print, so he works the conversation back to it. Being a public face of a franchise makes him rich, but it doesn’t come without strings. He takes the responsibility seriously.

“I think that’s really, really what’s important,” he says. “Guys can’t forget about that, and we have to realize, we are kids’ heroes, no matter if we want to be or not. There’s nothing wrong with heroes. We had heroes growing up.”

Sometimes, when it gets crazy, when he’s flying from coast to coast, drinking with models and starring in television shows, he struggles to remember the little kid who played the game for fun, the little kid who had heroes. That’s why he likes where he is now, sitting at a lunchroom in River Falls, Wis., gearing up for the season, munching on some fruit and other cafeteria fare. It’s a long way from Hollywood nights at Mood with the other A-listers.

“Sometimes you have to refocus yourself,” he says between bites. “That’s one of the things I particularly enjoy about camp. Most of the guys, they get TVs. I don’t get a TV. All I bring is a radio, some candles and a book. I bring a journal because I like to write, and I bring a bunch of books.”

He’s ready for this season to start. A year ago, he had almost 1,300 receiving yards, and he hopes he can do even better in 2005. Besides, at least he’s done jacking with his reality television show, “Super Agent.” It didn’t do so well, and Gonzalez isn’t used to failing. But at least he can make a joke out if it. “Put it this way,” he says. “My family doesn’t even watch it.”

Suddenly he’s off. Got another commercial to film. The crew is set up near the cafeteria. A woman is holding the script. Tony Gonzalez walks into the room, takes a peek at his lines and flashes his engaging smile. He looks at them like they’re old friends, and they melt.