Valentine's Day and Johnny Bos's 55th birthday coincide this year. Despite his sometimes overpowering presence, Valentine's Day continued as one of Russell Stover's favorite holidays, and while the occasion this year may be more special than usual for the mad scientist of the sweet science, that doesn't mean Oscar de la Hoya and Mike Tyson didn't make it on my shopping list.

No, I'm not going to give Foul Pole Golata a heart, which he would not know how to use. I am not going to recommend that the self-proclaimed ?heart and soul? of boxing, HBO, get a transplant (or maybe a brain instead to make sure it doesn't pass on fights like Joel Casamayor and Acelino Freitas).

But before we get into the general pop, let us not forget the long association of Valentine's Day and the Bos. When they first met, Shoeless Joe from Hannibal, Mo, had not yet begun to sing ?You Gotta Have Heart? in repertory, Dwight Eisenhower hadn't gone to Korea and you could still get a parking space on Flatbush Avenue.

Now it is Bos who's gotta have heart, or at least costly heart medicine, which is why on Thursday at Hurley's Saloon, West 48th Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues in Midtown Manhattan the Bosman will be given a benefit roast. There is not a better cause in boxing. Tickets can still be had for $250 (call the great Mike Marley at 917 853 4484) and rub shoulders with Bruce The Mouse Strauss, Dennis Rappaport, Oleg Maskaev, Lou DiBella and assorted riff-raff. The X-rated event starts with booze at 7 P.M., dinner to follow. Or, if you can't make the soiree, call Marley for where you can send your contribution.

No contributions for Mr. Tyson. Instead, let's give a heart to the Arizona prosecutor who wants to put him away for seven years for carrying dope, then telling the cops he needs help. To Mike, we give him some tough love and make Teddy Atlas adopt him.

To the Klitschko brothers, bronze hearts for their good works with the United Nations around the world.

To Floyd Mayweather Jr., a date with his true love - himself.

To Marvelous Marvin Hagler, the chance to work with director Clint Eastwood so he can make another name for himself.

To Todd duBoef and Carl King, may the sins of their stepfathers not be visited upon their unworthy heads.

To Roy Jones Jr., the breakthrough record that will enable him to give up the pretext.

To Oscar de la Hoya, a new trainer every day.

To Marco Antonio Barrera and Juan Manuel Marquez, the support of non-Mexican fans so that they make plenty of money from next month's pay-per-view.

To Jose Sulaiman, a vacation package that includes a new set of fingerprints.

To Joe Calzaghe, a real opponent, not some reject from a reality show.

To Brian Viloria, a wakeup call about the third round.

To Jermain Taylor, a punch worthy of a middleweight champion.

To Lou DiBella, who sometimes winds up on the side of angels as in, for example, sponsoring the Bos roast, peace in his post-boxing career.

To Manny Pacquiao, someone other than Karl Rove to handle his political career.

To Manny Pacquiao, anyone other than Murad Muhammad to handle his boxing career.

To Golden Boy Promotions, the realization that signing fighters is not the end-all of promoting. So far, it has been amateur hour.

To Joel Casamayor, at least one more big payday worthy of such a steady performer.

To Jesus Chavez, a nice lawsuit against whatever sponsor put his logo on the canvas that may have caused you to rip up your "good" knee against Julio Diaz.

To Bernard Hopkins and Winky Wright, a three-fight series to sate the appetite of ESPN Classic.

To Royce Feour, someone more reliable to accompany to the movies and Big Dog.

To Shannon Briggs, a speedy recovery. Pneumonia sucks.

To Buddy McGirt, a winner.

To Larry Merchant, a straight man.

To Oleg Maskaev, who shouldn't have to fight any mandtories until August, a lucky punch or two.

To Samuel Peter, patience and if the Vitali Klitschko camp wants to spread the wealth with you, why not? Just include getting paid for a tuneup session so you can stay busy and keep learning.

To Zab Judah, may all the pieces fit together - you and Miguel Cotto taking care of prior business - so you can earn some nice bread June 9.

To Antonio Margarito, congratulations for taking the easier way out - you should beat the comparatively novice Paul Williams, but if you do, then shut up about Floyd Jr.

To Duane Ford, may your scorecards always reflect the truth - in other words, you have some work cut out for you.

To fellow Cardinal fan Cory Spinks, have Albert Pujols work your corner for your bout with Kassim Ouma - can't hurt.

To Al Bernstein, recognition that you have become one of the best color guys on the tube.

To the Colonel, Bob Sheridan, recognition that you have long been the best blow-by-blow announcer.

To Gerald McClellan, heartfelt good wishes.

To Antonio Tarver, if you could do that well with Stallone, maybe you too could use Clint Eastwood.

To Sugar Shane Mosley, a victory May 5 by Floyd Mayweather Jr. to set you up to avenge your partner.

To George Kimball, continued success in the Boston Marathon.

To Gene Kilroy, an abacus to count the ways you have helped people over the years.

To Evander Holyfield, the ability to clone your heart and give copies to all your friends.

To Floyd Mayweather Sr., this ain't your holidy - hopefully, you'll get yours on Father's Day.

To Will Grigsby, who apparently tested positive for pot for the second time, mellow retirement. Was at your last fight - I hope it was your last - when you seemingly were more interested in catching butterflies than Ulises Solis.

To James Toney, all the chocolate-covered hearts you can eat. At this stage, you're obviously a lover, not a fighter.

To Johnny Tapia, a long, long movie project to keep your interest in the vida loca.

To John Hornewer, designation by Jose Sulaiman as lawyer emeritus.

To O'Neil Bell, no cheap shots about burying the hatchet - I'm sure the guy had it coming, right"

To Israel Vazquez and Rafael Marquez, may the best man win while both of you earn the fans' appreciation.

To Dan Rafael, a drawing board so he can invent a new game, one which he can score.

To Shelly Finkel, one of the Original Ray's (the one on Sixth Avenue in Greenwich Village that you used to race up the Garden State Parkway so you could get there before closing time, back before your heart attack, of course) pizzas, in the shape of a heart to show that its ingredients are heart-friendly.

To anyone who hasn't yet seen "Citizen Kane" or the "Maltese Falcon" but can quote the IBF rankings for junior flyweights, get a life. Substituting Ring magazine's ratings does not work.

PENTHOUSE: Sugar Shane Mosley, of course. At the age of 35, he's still sharper than most young whippersnappers.

OUTHOUSE: The International Boxing Hall of Fame. Jose Sulaiman, but not Freddie Brown? 

M

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