POKER CRAZE SWEETENING THE POTS FOR CITY'S HIDDEN CARD HOUSES

POKER CRAZE SWEETENING THE POTS FOR CITY'S HIDDEN CARD HOUSES ALONG the streets of New York at almost any hour of any day — above nail salons, next to Star bucks and under corporate offices — there are hard-core gamblers dropping wads of cash in the city's secret poker parlors. The Texas hold 'em poker craze has hit Gotham's gambling underworld, with six clubs opening in just the past six months. The Post went inside the shady and sometimes thrilling underground scene to talk to players and managers whose livelihoods depend on the flip of a card. As they chase tournaments and cash games, cops and prosecutors are never far behind. Oblivious office workers grab a hot dog on a Midtown street, while upstairs in rented rooms, high-rollers called "whales" and free-spending amateurs called "fish" loose their bankrolls, stake other players and argue over a newbie's lucky fortune on the "turn." There are professional players practicing for Vegas, Hollywood actors getting their gambling fix, superstar ballplayers blowing off steam, Internet-poker whiz kids trying their hand at real live games, and respected old-timers with nicknames like Mike "Falafel" and Johnny "Noodles" beating down hood-wearing punks on "trips" — slang for three of a kind. At some joints, you can enter the cheapest game with $10 in chips and bet as low as a buck. In the richest cash games, high-rollers "buy in" for $10,000 and sweat out six-figure pots. "I've been playing in clubs for years, I think they're good for the city — they represent a long tradition of gambling houses that should be respected," said world-class backgammon player and poker prodigy Abe "The Brooklyn Kid" Mosseri. The multimillionaire from Midwood cut his teeth playing the illegal club circuit for over 10 years before he became a television star on the World Poker Tour. "Now, every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to open up a club and cash in," said Mosseri, 31. "It's just a matter of which ones survive and which ones don't." The longest-running poker club in the city opened three years ago — before Bravo, the Travel Channel and ESPN started televising tournaments, triggering a national fascination with poker. At 4 a.m. on a Saturday, almost every seat at 14 tables is filled. Muted televisions in almost every corner play the fights and NBA and baseball reruns. "It may be Friday night, but it could be any night to these guys," says one tattooed man wearing a trucker cap as he waits for a "$4/$8" game to open up. The dollar amounts allude to the small and big bets forced on two respective players in each hand. This club is certainly no glamour hall — it's all about the gambling. The bare, beige walls reflect blinding fluorescent lights. A brunette waitress wearing a red oriental dress and chopsticks in her hair hands out cans of Coke, cups of tea and chocolate biscuits for $1 chip tips. An Asian man is asleep in a room no bigger than an elevator, set aside for smokers and cut off by a plastic curtain. At a $10/$20 no-limit table, a man who looks like he came straight from work dressed in a navy suit moves "all-in" with about $550 in chips. A college kid matches his stack of chips, jumps up and flips his cards — two aces. "Suck my d - - -!" yells the gloating frat boy just before gathering up $2,000 in winnings after "the flop." (In hold 'em, the flop refers to the first three "community" cards dealt face-up after the initial two cards are given face-down to each player. The fourth card, also an upside community card, is called "the turn" and the final card, also up, is called "the river." Players make bets before the flop, turn and before and after the river.) "What's it feel like to have my c - - - in your mouth?" the kid screams. Shocked players at other tables peel their eyes away from their game to see the commotion. Most shake their heads in disgust — "What a monkey," comments an online whiz kid at the next-door table.