SATURDAY
It’s mid-day and I’m writing a story in my room at the Rio when my cell phone rings. It’s Ciaran O’Leary. He’s arrived in Las Vegas and wants to meet up, introduce me to the boys.

I had interviewed Ciaran (pronounced KEER-AHN) before going to Vegas, as I was looking for a professional player to shadow at the World Series. He had just won the third event at the 2007 WSOP, earning more than $700,000. At 33, he had been working at the game as a pro for a decade, and was eager to take full advantage of his sudden celebrity. Naturally, he agreed to let me tag along.

I meet up with Ciaran and we wait for two of his friends to show up. The first to arrive is Bryan Watkins, a San Francisco cop whose closest brush with poker immortality was a 20^th-place finish in the 2003 main event. His accent betrays his Welsh heritage, and it’s clear he is still tormented – four years later – by not winning it all in 2003.

“I had a great style that got me there,” he says. “But I didn’t realize it. If I knew then what I know now, I woulda won the damn thing. … I thought I was king of the world, and my lack of experience really showed itself.”

Bryan is as aggressive at the table as Ciaran is patient, and Bryan thinks his friend has a great shot to build on his earlier victory.

“I think if you had to pick a favorite to win the main event right now, it would be Ciaran,” Bryan says. “His game and his reads are just phenomenal.”

Next to arrive is Mike Cooper, a bear of a man who can dominate a room with his large frame and booming voice. He’s wears his hair back in a long ponytail and adorns his fingers with diamond rings. He calls himself “Diamond Mike,” but to his friends he’s simply Cooper, or Coop.

Cooper’s basic philosophy in poker is to trust the math. Math never varies. Math is always true, he says.

“To me the math is the one thing in poker that is constant,” he explains. “In the long run, the guy who gets his money in good math-wise over a period of a hundred tournaments is going to end up with more chips. In the short ride there are a lot of variables. But in the end, math is math. Math doesn’t bull(bleep) you know?”

Cooper’s comments set off a mini-argument between the three men, each expressing his own philosophy on the topic. These arguments are common and are a way for these guys to bounce ideas off each other.

“We talk like this all the time,” Bryan says. “We’re all learning off each other. So instead of playing against one man, you’re against this whole outfit.”

“You’re not going to listen to everything, you still have to play your own game,” Cooper says. “But it helps to have the boys talk in your ear a little bit.”

Interactive Meet the players A look at the legends, stars and young guns of poker

The boys go to dinner at the VooDoo Lounge, a ritzy club on the 50^th floor of the Rio. This is how they prepare for the main event. Drinking and laughing. Telling stories about women and poker. Sharing bawdy stories. Blowing off a little steam before they have to hunker down to business the next day.

Another friend, Dennis Lane, joins the group late. Dennis is nicknamed the “Silver Bullet” for his full head of perfectly arranged silver hair, which always flies out the room in a blur the moment he busts out of a tournament. The Silver Bullet was just knocked out of a tournament at the Venetian, where he had been trying to win enough to play in the main event tomorrow. His pals sympathize with him by ordering another bottle of wine.

The voices get louder, the stories more bawdy, as the night wears on. But eventually, it’s time to head back to their rooms and get some sleep – except for Cooper, who says he plans to get dressed up and go back out and hit the strip.

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