For an upcoming business trip I had to write a bio so that they could introduce me. This always makes me uncomfortable. I never know what to say. I do not want to brag. But I also do not want to be overly modest.

I put some prompts into Chat GPT and asked it to come up with a bio for me.

This is what it sent back. Not sure how accurate it is. Let me know what you think!

Warning: Tony Retrosi is a lot.

He will tell you he’s “taking it easy” while simultaneously running a business, coaching gymnastics on another continent, dealing with city government, writing something that will probably piss somebody off, learning Italian, planning his next trip, and wondering why everyone else seems stressed.

He has opinions. Many opinions. And unfortunately, he has usually spent enough time thinking about them that you can’t just dismiss him with a casual “Yeah, but…” Unless you have about 45 minutes available.

Do not casually ask him about gymnastics unless you genuinely want to know. You will accidentally unlock a 32-year lecture involving coaching philosophy, psychology, education, leadership, Italy, three former athletes, and a story from a training camp in 1997.

Likewise, never say, “Government should just run more like a business.” You have no idea what you’ve just started.

He travels at a pace normally associated with international fugitives. New Hampshire. Italy. Puerto Rico. Mexico. Iceland. Canada. Back to Italy. He will describe this as “a busy couple of weeks.”

He is fiercely loyal. This sounds wonderful—and mostly it is. But once Tony decides you are one of his people, good luck getting rid of him. Former gymnast? Friend? Family? Coach he met 20 years ago? You are now apparently enrolled in a lifetime support program you never applied for.

He will check on you. He will encourage you. He will give you advice you did not request. He will tell you when you’re full of shit. He will probably feed you. And if necessary, he will metaphorically—or perhaps literally—give you the promised kick in the ass.

He is sentimental but would prefer that nobody notice. He will make a joke precisely when things are getting emotional, because God forbid we all just sit there having feelings like normal people.

He believes friendship is a long-term contract. Geography is apparently irrelevant.

He also has an alarming tendency to collect homes, communities, gymnasts, friends and surrogate family members wherever he goes. Spend enough time with him and you may suddenly discover you have a place to stay in New Hampshire or Italy and several people you’ve never met have already heard about you.

He loves a good argument, but don’t confuse arguing with anger. He can disagree with you enthusiastically and still pour you a glass of wine five minutes later.

There is also a significant danger that he will convince you to do something. Travel somewhere. Coach differently. Speak up. Take a chance. Come to dinner. Get involved. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

His fundamental problem is that he actually gives a shit.

About his athletes.
About his friends.
About his family.
About his community.
About whether he’s leaving things a little better than he found them.

Which means he can occasionally be exhausting.

So consider yourself warned:

If you meet Tony Retrosi, keep your opinions defensible, your passport current, your wine glass nearby, and don’t casually tell him about a problem unless you’re prepared for him to actually try to help you solve it.

And whatever you do, do not tell him, “That’s just the way it’s always been done.”

You could lose the rest of your afternoon.