TEXAS HOLDEM ONLINE POKER

Between deals, as the haze of Marlboro smoke rises into a slow-spinning ceiling fan, their talk is rated-R for raucous or, maybe, raunchy.

They're decent players, it turns out - for guys.

Over the past several weeks, though, two of the three best Texas No Limit Holdem poker players at Bono's Pub in Lisle have been women: Dawn Sapp of Lisle and Andrea Connors of Wheaton.

Whether it's their skill - or simply that they play more than others - Sapp and Connors are among the top practitioners of a style of poker that has captured the attention of large television audiences and soon could be coming to a bar near you.

The Amateur Poker League, a Wichita, Kan.-based company, already has brought its tournament to Lisle and to Goose Island Wrigleyville in Chicago. And it's in negotiations with bars in Bartlett, Mount Prospect and Crystal Lake to have card players share space with pool sharks.

Every Sunday afternoon and Monday night at Bono's Pub, players gather to compete for league points and build their skills.

No money changes hands, but the players who rack up the most points will be invited to a regional tournament, where they will compete for a shot at the national tournament in Kansas. The winner there advances to the Poker Millionaire Challenge, where the final prize is $1 million.

Yet, for many, the ultimate goal is to get ready for a different set of tournaments and win a much larger pot of money.

Starting in January, there will be another series of regional tournaments in which each player begins with zero points. If they keep winning, they could reach gaming's Holy Grail: The World Series of Poker at Binion's Horseshoe Casino in Las Vegas and a shot at more than $5 million in prize money.

The top 200 to 400 point-getters in northern Illinois would participate in a regional championship. The winner of the region would then play in a national championship. That winner would bypass the $10,000 entry fee for a seat in the World Series of Poker.

The popularity of Texas Holdem - a game in which players are each dealt two cards and then make their best hand with five shared or "community" cards - has been fueled by both serious players and those fascinated by extensive TV coverage over the past year or so, said Bill Eadington, director of the Institute for the Study of Gambling and Commercial Gaming at the University of Nevada, Reno.

Eadington, who has studied gambling since the 1970s, says part of poker's appeal is that "the rocket scientist doesn't tend to do better than the fifth-grade dropout."

Even players who do poorly are lured back, he says, because of "the thrill of little victories along the way."

But that's not what attracted Don Niner of Lisle to play at Bono's.

"I suckered him in," said his girlfriend, Dawn Sapp, who started a recent round as the bar's overall points leader.

Some of the guys at Niner's table tease him about Sapp's status. They all have their own theories - and excuses - about how a woman possibly can be leading in points. She's lucky. She plays more than most the guys.

Niner waits until his girlfriend steps away to admit what the others won't: She's pretty darn good. "But," he adds, "I might be biased."

Sapp says she started playing for pennies years ago during family gatherings for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

But she didn't get hooked until she began watching ESPN's nearly constant coverage of poker.

"Now I'm ready for the World Series of Poker," she said.

Maybe.

But before she can make it to Vegas, baby, there's fierce competition in Lisle from another woman.

Andrea Connors, 23, has poker fever, too, although her approach is controlled and calculated.

From the start, the Wheaton woman has been among the top three players at Bono's.

For Connors, who works at Clear Channel Communications in Aurora, playing poker means spending time with her fiance, Chris Gawlik, who works for the Amateur Poker League.

As Gawlik passes Connors during a recent game, another player jokes that "a family that gambles together stays together."

"Then Chris and I will be married forever," Connors says.

"Or until the money runs out," Gawlik adds.

Despite their success, Sapp and Connors clearly are outnumbered in the Lisle tournaments.

Many players are guys like Mike Manheim, who edits commercials for Clear Channel.

Manheim, who says he likes working on previews for monster truck events, learned the game as a boy playing cards with family members.

When he was looking for drinking money while attending Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville, he began playing "for nickels, dimes and quarters."

He got pretty good and learned Texas No Limit Holdem, but says his friends weren't particularly interested.

That's changed now with poker a primetime staple most weeknights on cable stations ranging from ESPN and Fox Sports to the Travel Channel and Bravo.

And it doesn't hurt, Manheim says, that the last two World Series champions won satellite tournaments such as this one to earn free seats in Las Vegas.

"Ever since (champions) Chris Moneymaker and Greg Raymer won on TV," Manheim said, "people understand it."

He would like to add his own name to that list of poker multi-millionaires.

It's that lure of winning a free buy-in to the World Series through the Amateur Poker League that "keeps me sucked into playing," Manheim said.

Like Raymer, cover boy of the October issue of Cigar Aficionado magazine, Manheim also read David Sklansky's seminal work, "Theory of Poker."

Unlike the people who make their living playing cards, Manheim knows he's still a novice. But he's filed away several pearls of wisdom from the experts.

Never play the cards; play the player.

Look for betting tells.

Look for dancing fingers, a cough, anything that provides an edge.

In the first round of play on a recent night in Lisle, Manheim's opponents fade one by one until he finds himself at the final table going head-to-head with Connors. Manheim wins.

An hour later, halfway into the evening's second round, Manheim and Connors again go one-on-one. Manheim enters as the tournament leader, but Connors soon takes most of his chips.

With few chips remaining, Manheim knows he's no longer the shark - he's the blood in the water.

He has no choice. He pushes his remaining chips to the middle of the table. Manheim's "all in."

Connors sits on a king and a 10.

Manheim puts his last hope in pocket kings.

Then comes the flop.

Garbage.

Garbage.

10.

The "turn" is another 10.

And the last card, the "river" ... a queen.

It's too late. The damage is done. Manheim's pair of kings is no match for Connors' three 10s.

In less than an hour, Manheim has dropped from first to last in the night's field of 23.

He has to surrender his seat, knocked out by Connors.

Walking away, he sips his drink and recalls a poker pearl.

"As long as you have a chip and a chair, you're OK," Manheim says. "I lost my chips."

But Manheim hasn't lost his dream of being the next unknown to play into the final round in Vegas at Binion's Horseshoe and win the World Series of Poker.

So he'll be back at Bono's, ready to try again.

Deal: Players dream of a seat at World Series of Poker