All in

Updated: January 10, 2010

It’s late October, and while Indiana University students are caught in the throes of midterms, Kevin Bryniczka just got back from Aruba, $15,000 richer.

His room is a mess. Empty energy drink bottles litter the floor, cans of Planters nuts and bottles of Lean System pills crowd his computer desk, and Odwalla bar wrappers are everywhere.

The glow of the 30-inch dual monitors halos Bryniczka’s head. On the screen, he plays 12 hands of short-handed no-limit Texas hold ‘em to the tunes of the musical "Rent." He leans closer, his eyes glazed and glued to what he hopes to be the next big win.

“Come on,” he utters through clenched teeth.

A nudie poster peers down at him. His eyes dart across the screen. “Ship it…”

And he ships it.

Then, his focused posture explodes. “Yes!” he yells, tapping his silver desk bell with a dimply grin.

Bryniczka for the win.

At just 20 years old, he’s living the dream. Bryniczka isn’t going to school anymore. He doesn’t have to. He’s half way through a business degree but is taking a break for the big bucks. Since he was 15, Bryniczka has been working his way up the rungs of online poker and now pulls in about $200,000 a year.

“I’ve been obsessed with moneymaking my whole life,” he says.

He’s a professional gambler, even though his age prevents him from setting foot inside an American casino. He pushes limits. He’s a man of obsessions and whims.

Inside, Bryniczka is a kid playing with grown-up toys. The world is at his disposal.



On a cloudy Monday, Bryniczka lounges on his brown overstuffed couch that he bought used at a tent sale, his blonde wisps ruffled from sleep. It’s noon—an unusually early morning for him.

The family room of his Bloomington townhouse reeks from the night before—of stale beer and greasy pizza. A shiny new digital turntable sits in front of his 58-inch flat screen. The turntable, in the spirit of Guitar Hero, controls his new video game.

“Did you know DJ Hero has one of the best video game soundtracks like, ever?”

He’ll probably beat the whole game in a week. Bryniczka’s competitive nature sometimes gets the best of him.

Bryniczka started studying finance at Indiana University in 2007. This semester, he’s decided that school has actually become a detriment to his success.

“I’m always thinking opportunity cost," he says. "Like at a group meeting, I think the hour costs me $100."

Instead, he’s committing himself to his online games with intentions of returning to school next fall. His parents aren’t particularly excited, but the prospect of in-state tuition after Bryniczka establishes residency this year convinced them.

“It was not easy,” Bryniczka says of his parents, who have a hard time grappling with their son’s financial independence. But Bryniczka’s mother is willing to support her kids no matter what. “The bottom line is, he’s over 18," she says. "He can do what he wants."

While his sisters depended on them for grocery money, Bryniczka never expresses those needs. He’s self-sustaining. He is an admitted Richie Rich.

“Well, I don’t have a McDonalds yet, “ he says. “If I buy a house, I’m broke.”

At this point, Bryniczka wouldn’t think of buying a house or starting his life as a grown up.

Bryniczka’s winning streak started at the high school lunch tables. After winning ten dollars from a friend on a game of no-limit hold ‘em his sophomore year, he couldn’t resist the satisfaction. Bryniczka went through a series of phases before that – magic, Pokemon, and the online military shooter game SOCOM – but nothing stuck like betting.

“If I’m gonna do something, I’m gonna do it really good,” he says.

Not surprisingly, Bryniczka’s new passion rose with the boom—an era familiar to poker players regarding the defining year that that the Travel Channel first broadcast the World Poker Tour.

Online poker was the big thing, and Bryniczka wanted every part of it. He played on his mom’s Poker Stars account while he was under 18, turning his first free $10 promotional coupon into $100.

He quickly progressed, acquiring all of his poker knowledge from books and Google and applying his competitive attitude. For this, Bryniczka wouldn’t attribute all of his success to luck.

“Luck is interesting. If I would’ve lost that first 10, I would’ve said, ‘OK, let’s go play basketball.’ Over the course of one hand, it can be all luck. But over the course of one million hands, it’s all skill.”



“NOOOOOOOOOOO.”

Bryniczka is yelling in his room. The internet went out.

He thumps down the stairs after playing poker for 20 minutes. He is not in a good mood. “Yep, I lost $100,” he says.

That’s not what bugs him. He believes that he’s lost thousands over the years just due to faulty internet. But in the grand scheme of things, when you’re winning and losing 5K every night, it doesn’t seem like a lot. Still, Bryniczka knows he needs to maximize his winnings.

“Who knows how much time there is to make this much money,” he says, lowering his head.

What’s a 20-year-old got to worry about? He has the rest of his life to make money.

Not in the turbulent field of online poker. It’s already outlawed in Massachusetts. Bryniczka is worried that the vague future of poker law will not turn in his favor.

On top of that, the boom is fading. “It’s not convenient for amateurs to buy in anymore,” he says. Too many people of an aggressive skill level eat up these “fish”—or inexperienced players. “It’s just a race to see who’s gonna take their money first.”

Then why does Bryniczka continue to play? The rounds are getting tougher, but his biting competitiveness urges him to keep going. Keep winning. Keep profiting.

But for what? “I don’t even see dollars anymore, I see numbers," he says. "You have to. I’ve become desensitized.”

Everywhere else in life, Bryniczka lives to feel. He enjoys life outside of his cyber job. He’s an adventurer. He loves to travel and skydive. He’s into fitness and riding his bike. He’s a local beer connoisseur and a luxury cigar smoker—and his poker playing certainly pays those bills.

When will it end?

“I don’t know," he says. "Either when I don’t need it anymore, or when I’m set.”

This is all he has right now.



Cereal
Mozzarella sticks
String cheese
Muscle Milk

That’s what’s on Bryniczka’s grocery list.

The rest will come from the Wendy’s down the street. Or Panda Express—If Bryniczka can get there. Two speeding tickets in the past two years have resulted in the suspension of his license, so every time he drives his brand new tricked-out Accord, he’s taking a risk. But he’s deemed his favorite fast food places close enough.

“I mean, it’s a risk—a calculated risk," he says.

Even though Bryniczka’s fast food and poker-playing regimen seems like a surefire way to submit to a sedentary lifestyle, he combats it with athletic hobbies.

That is, Bryniczka has made a deal with himself. If he doesn’t work out for at least six hours a week, he owes each of his three roommates $500.

So on a Friday night, Bryniczka cruises to televised scenery and the shrill demands of Mindy Mylrea’s Super Cycle. It seems like the type of workout video that a fit stay-at-home mom would cycle to, but it gets good customer reviews on Amazon.

For the rainy days, or more often—the dark nights, Bryniczka has his bike set up on a stationary track so he can do workout videos in the family room.

“Everything you got, right now,” shrieks Mylrea, a middle-aged woman in a tight tank, headlights on. Bryniczka pedals harder.

“There is no turning back, no turning back!” Bryniczka gasps. Beads of sweat cling to his arms, neck, face. Finally, the cool down.

“Well, I won’t feel guilty now,” Bryniczka says.

Sure, Bryniczka will drop $7,000 on a skydiving rig, $1,500 on a Herman Miller computer chair, $800 on a Garmin road bike, and $200 on a self-contained ecosystem (basically an upgrade on Sea-Monkeys). But his tastes are simple, and he’s always scouting the best deals.

One night when Bryniczka is out to dinner with friends at Scotties, he insists on taking the restaurant's terry cloth hand towels, as if buying his own would’ve been too much trouble. “Yeah, but these are free,” he says. An obvious choice.

He doesn’t like sushi, he prefers his cheeseburgers plain, and he’s never tasted a peach. Bryniczka isn’t flashy. He doesn’t always pick up the dinner bill.

“He’s so modest with his winnings,” Bryniczka’s older sister Julie says. “He doesn’t talk about it.”

When Julie vacationed with Bryniczka in Australia last summer, she finally experienced the extent of his bank account during lavish hotel stays and fancy meals—but still, he didn’t pay for everything, and she didn’t expect him to. Over the years, his winnings have become more evident to her.

“Like when our Christmas presents progress from being bought at Walgreens to iPod Touches,” she says.

But their trip to Australia also reminded Julie of what a happy-go-lucky kid Bryniczka is. “He’s just clueless sometimes,” she says. “I think it’s just his mentality of ‘Live life now.’”

Bryniczka realizes that his wallet could win the hearts of many, but that’s totally not his style. Right now he’d rather watch one of his favorite animated movies, such as Space Jam, than go on a date. He’s engrossed in the game.

“I just hope he realizes sometime that there isn’t only poker,” Julie says. “ I think he realizes it — but he’s not ready yet.”



The last time Bryniczka had a girlfriend, he was in the 7th grade. And it was fleeting. “But I’ve had crushes and stuff," he says. "I’m not gay or anything."

Bryniczka likes to keep up his bachelor lifestyle, but watching two of his roommates fall lucky-in-love has made him wish for a second half. Unfortunately, he’s already got his hands tied.

“Sometimes, I need to bring my laptop down to play beer pong if I’m finishing a tourney,” Bryniczka says.

The long nights of partying or poker, and sometimes playing poker while partying, do not lend well to the commitments of a girlfriend.

On his flight to Aruba, Bryniczka sat next to a flirtatious, middle-aged woman, who asked Bryniczka, “Are you into older women?’

A gold digger. “Oh yeah, you can spot them,” Bryniczka says. He just shrugs it off and moves on. It’s not the first time he’s had to decipher a woman’s intentions.

But with perhaps a little too much liquid courage and the frustration of single life, Bryniczka can’t stop jabbering about the prospects of a love life after a night of bowling with friends.

“The butterflies, man, that’s the shit you live for,” he says. If only Bryniczka could experience a crush again.

And then there’s Meghan.

Meghan, a sweet traditionalist who is highly involved in school and wildly outgoing, has had an ambiguous relationship with Bryniczka since freshman year when they met at a girls’ night dorm party, and Bryniczka subsequently got his first manicure from her.

Ever since, it’s been a mix of silly arguments, friendship, and sucking face. It’s clear that she doesn’t pursue Bryniczka for his money, but despite the honesty, Bryniczka said he’s just not that into her.

“I’m too nice,” he says, “I can’t lie to girls.”

One recent night Meghan showed up to the Classic Bowling Lanes looking cute. Bryniczka showed up way too many beers deep—he was trashed. Like old friends, they swapped simple conversation in between Bryniczka’s victory roars.

It wasn’t until after Bryniczka’s win that he uncharacteristically lashed out at her with a venomous attack as everyone was getting in their cars to leave.

“Oh, is it because I have Aspergers, Meghan?” he yelled. Meghan rolled up her car window. These remnants of an earlier conversation left everyone else confused.

Bryniczka doesn’t have Aspergers, a social disorder related to autism that would cause him to behave awkwardly and obsess over certain things. Meghan knows that. But Bryniczka remembers Meghan suggesting that he has Aspergers, and that has resonated with him.

He knows he’s not socially awkward, yet his poker playing doesn’t seem to strike a very social chord. Is this what girls think of him?

Bryniczka has good health, an optimistic attitude, and plenty of money. Happiness, right? If there’s someone out there for everyone, then Bryniczka just hasn’t found it yet.

And he won’t find it in the cards.

“That’s life’s game,” he says. “Waiting. I’ve just been waiting.”



In the world of online poker, Sundays are tournament day. Naturally, Bryniczka is at his computer, playing 20 to 24 tables at any given minute.

“Tournaments are much simpler. All you do is go all in,” he says. Because the stakes are only a couple hundred per game, he can afford more. Bryniczka’s finger is fixed on the “A” key. One tap, and he puts his stash on the line.

The tables blink and beep for attention. Bryniczka reacts and clicks around like a game of whack-a-mole. Except each whack adds or subtracts hundreds of dollars to his Poker Stars account.

In addition to dollars, Poker Stars adds points to Bryniczka’s account. Right now, he’s only a few months away from winning an Aston Martin sports car. But he’s decided to hold out a little longer for his own small plane. He’s getting his pilot’s license this winter.

Bryniczka stares at the screen, engaged in a hand.

What all the little boxes on the screen have in common is his profile name and picture, situated around the cyber table. A 6-year-old Kevin with the same dimply grin, next to his player name—VicTree.

Bryniczka blasts the music to keep his momentum up. The song “Defying Gravity” from the musical "Wicked" soars from the speakers.

“I’m through accepting limits…”

Bryniczka’s eyes get tired from looking at the screen for so long. Doctors have even recommended that he look away at least every hour or so to exercise his vision. “But —" he justifies, “I gotta go to work.”

Soon enough, Bryniczka will be rolling in tangible tournaments. He’s spending the next couple weeks in Costa Rica, then back to Arlington Heights, Illinois for Thanksgiving, and finally he’s jetting off to Prague for another poker tournament — where he can actually gamble legally.

This summer, Bryniczka plans to rent a mansion in Las Vegas with some friends to celebrate his 21st birthday for three months and of course, work.

It doesn’t take long before he’s mesmerized. Bryniczka starts bobbing his head and he can’t help but sing along to the song.

“Unlimited, together we’re unlimited…”

“Yes, that’s huge,” he exclaims, still fixated on the screen.

“There’s no fight we cannot win…”

“— And I win.”

“And if I’m flying solo at least I’m flying free…”



On a sunny November afternoon, Bryniczka decides to try his luck at another passion he’s been able to pursue thanks to his financial success. Bryniczka is going for his fortieth sky dive.

“Kevin, all of your favorite things have stigmas attached to them,” Bryniczka’s roommate Lindsay points out.

“I know, it’s so lame,” he says.

Bryniczka rolls out of bed at 9:45 a.m. and blasts his pump- up music.

A techno song with event-appropriate lyrics rings through the house.

“I’m going skydiving, Going, Going skydiving…”

In just a few minutes, he’s on his way to the dropzone.

It’s a breezy 70-degree day without a cloud in the sky. Four colorful specks float toward the earth, eventually materializing into real people with bright blue suits attached to 170-square-foot parachutes. Bryniczka stares at them with excitement, waiting impatiently for his ascent then descent.

Finally, the tiny Cessna plane lands for his turn. Bryniczka swings his rig over his shoulders, displaying the custom embroidery. “Kevin,” it reads in a careful script that matches his bright red shorts.

Bryniczka runs a gear check. “No straps are frayed. Handles. AAD [Automatic Activation Device] on. Make sure there’s color there,” he says, lifting a flap on the pack. “Still looks good to me.”

The plane is the size of a small crawl space, fitting four people uncomfortably. No benches. Few seat belts. Bryniczka slinks between the pilot and the door, eagerly staring out the duct-taped windows.

“The first time I went up, my leg was shaking uncontrollably,” he reminisces. “And when I landed, I felt like I could run a marathon.”

The fields of Greensburg, Indiana shrink to geometric shapes as the plane chugs upward. It can hardly withstand the wind, wavering back and forth. Bryniczka’s company, an older woman named Vicki who is flying in tandem with the instructor Mike, babbles on about her feelings. “This is a little nerve wracking, I hafta tell ya…”

Five thousand feet. “Disconnect your seatbelt,” Mike says. Bryniczka yawns. “Wake me up when we’re there,” he jokes. All smiles.

Seven thousand feet. “Up on your knees, please,” Mike says. He gives Bryniczka instructions on how to exit a plane of this size, but the wind and the roar of the propellers are too much.

“Wait, do I put my feet down?” Bryniczka asks. His confusion doesn’t seem to worry Mike.

“What’s the worst that could happen,” Mike yells. “You fall out?”

Nine thousand feet. “High five me,” Bryniczka says. “That’s what they do. It’s part of the camaraderie.”

Vicki looks desperate. “Can we high five?” she asks. Bryniczka slaps her hand and gives it a quick pound as Mike orders him to open the hatch.

With a sudden gust of wind, the plane becomes an open-door aircraft. “Can you see the runway?” the pilot yells. Bryniczka can’t. The pilot jerks the plane right so that the open door faces the ground. There it is.

Bryniczka grabs the sides of the door and steps out, catching nothing but thin air. And then he’s gone, hurtling at 115 mph to the ground.