Tony Soprano ain’t the type to rat to coaches or switch roommates just ‘cause the kid’s glued to a screen. But he is old school—hard work, focus, pride in the badge. After a couple nights of watching the rookie go full zombie mode on his handheld, Tony puts the controller down for him. Literally. “You here to be a pro or a streamer?” he asks, not yelling, just looking. The kid mumbles something about relaxing, but Tony’s already tossing a deck of cards on the table. “You wanna unwind? Learn how to play Gin.” They bond over a few games, Tony talks shop, shares stories, lets the kid see what long-term greatness looks like. The gaming slows down, the kid leans in. Tony doesn’t need credit—he just needs the team focused. Coaches never hear a word. Next trip? Same room, less Mario, more mindset. That’s leadership, Soprano-style.