TEXAS HOLDEM ONLINE POKER

It's a fascinating read, and I'd say that even if Barry and I had not both gone to Bogan High School and taken showers together -- you know, after gym.

The book is as precise in its thinking, as carefully articulate, as Barry himself. I suspect Texas Holdem poker players who read it will win more money or, in my own case, lose less.

What I really like, though, is how Ace on the River looks at the bigger picture. While other poker books may tell you when to raise with jacks or fold with a middling pair, only Barry's book wanders so confidently into your home life, your sleep habits, your sex life, your unspoken insecurities, your anger-management issues.

Like this:

Sexual frustration, poker

"Studies show that the frequency of sexual thoughts when we are awake or asleep is correlated with the level of our sexual frustration. If you are sexually frustrated, you may have trouble concentrating on poker."

Which means you'd better do this:

"If you have sex before you go to sleep, you probably will be more rested and less distracted when you play. Therefore, a sex partner who travels with you can be a big asset. In theory, if your partner isn't with you when you go on an extended poker trip out of town, a relatively steady substitute will give you a competitive advantage."

But before you begin to cheer, remember this:

"Some spouses of athletes and politicians may accept this as part of the territory, but poker players don't have that kind of status."

I laughed when I read that line, and I bet Barry smiled when he wrote it. He's got a dry sense of humor.

But, honestly, I suspect he was just trying to tell the truth.

That's his peculiar way.

From Bogan to Vegas

I first wrote about Barry about a year and a half ago, right after he won the World Poker Tournament Open in Tunica, Miss. He walked away with $1.2 million and -- get this -- gave it all to charity.

How, I wondered, did Barry go from chemistry lab at Bogan, class of 1972, to the card tables of Las Vegas, California and the world?

So I shot him an e-mail, beating back the natural urge to ask for money. We talked by e-mail and on the phone a couple of times, and I wrote a story.

Turns out Barry had been playing Texas Holdem poker at night straight through high school while all the rest of us, not quite so bright, did homework. Then he played poker through college and grad school and a marriage and kids and a divorce. He was a pioneering programmer at the software giant Symantec in Silicon Valley, working crazy hours, and still he played poker, whatever the game.

He quit Symantec in 1991 and took up poker like a job, playing at least six days a week, 12 hours a day. He played in private games for enormous sums and got rich without the world ever hearing about him.

And then, in 2003, Barry found a new calling: playing poker for charity. He still pocketed whatever he won in the private games but gave to charity every dime he picked up in high-profile public tournaments. His favorite charity was Children Inc., which works with kids in the United States and 20 other countries.

His parents had always told him: Make the world a better place.

That's the story I wrote about Barry then, when he was still a relative unknown even to most poker writers. But much has happened to him since.

Barry has given more than $3 million to charity. He pays school tuitions for many young people through his new Magwitch Foundation. He's cheered by fans when he walks into a casino. He has a new nickname -- "The Robin Hood of Poker" -- laid on him by a writer for Card Player magazine.

And he's got this new book, which is selling well.

Time, I guess, to shoot Barry another e-mail.

Strangers ask for money

How, I ask Barry, has life changed?

"I get e-mails from people asking me for money every day," he writes back. "Usually they ask for money for medical expenses. The most bizarre one was from a guy who said he didn't like his job, so could I please send him $60,000 so he wouldn't have to work."

Geez. Who'd do a thing like that? It's not like Barry went to high school with the guy.

"I turn down almost all the requests I get," Barry writes. "The truth is, I'm not really that wealthy and I still have to work, playing poker. I've gone through much of my savings. I took most of the last year off to write my book, and of course the money I won in tournaments was given away."

And how, I ask Barry, has all this changed you as a person?

"I don't think it has affected me that much," he says, "except that I now feel like I have accomplished something, where before I felt like I was spending my life chasing money."

But in certain circles you're a celebrity now.

"I got to do a few scenes in the movie 'Lucky You' with Robert Duvall, Drew Barrymore and Eric Bana," Barry writes. "Since it was a poker movie and the extras were mostly amateur poker players in the 20-30 range, it was funny that they all knew me, but they didn't know the famous actors."

Not that anybody treats a poker pro like a Hollywood star.

"Even the ones who knew Robert Duvall were afraid to approach him," Barry writes. "Poker celebrity is entirely different. They would put their arm on my shoulder and tell me that they play poker on Friday nights and ask if there was a chance I could show up to the game. Poker is everyman's game."

Barry lives in a big house overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I like to think he heard the roar of the tide as he typed his note to me.

If I had called him on the phone, I suppose, I could have asked him to hold up the phone so I could hear the ocean for myself. We groundlings in the Midwest are grateful for small favors.

But talking to Barry on the phone requires planning. He often plays Texas Holdem poker all night, gets home at 7 a.m. and sleeps into the afternoon.

Barry lives on Texas Holdem Poker Time, which is a long ways from Central Time, and even more distant from Bogan Time.