Ron Kantowski sends birthday wishes to a young-looking Bob Arum

Monday, Dec. 18, 2006 | 7:25 a.m.

I got an e-mail last week that said Las Vegas boxing promoter Bob Arum would be turning 75 on Friday.

That seems impossible. Arum looks at least 10 years younger. And he works harder than a lot of guys half his age.

Maybe Top Rank Inc. publicist Lee Samuels was pulling a fast one. Perhaps there will be a follow-up e-mail today that says Arum is only 65. Or 55.

Then Samuels could tell us that he was lying earlier. And that today he's telling the truth.

It's no wonder rival promoter Don King refers to Arum as the "Master of Trickeration." He can't possibly be 75. Or can he?

Well, judging by Arum's lengthy list of accomplishments in a sport that, with the possible exception of George Foreman, Rocky Balboa and Larry Merchant, usually does not lend itself to such longevity, it appears that Samuels may not have been fibbing after all. How else could his boss have promoted:

And last, but certainly not least:

Knievel crashed against the canyon wall.

Arum, on the other hand, is still going strong. He refuses to deploy the parachute.

Schooled at Harvard and then again at the White House, where he worked during John Kennedy's presidency, Arum got into the boxing business in 1966.

The first fight he promoted was Muhammad Ali vs. George Chuvalo, which is sort of like a baseball umpire breaking in at a Yankees-Royals game. Actually, Chuvalo was a lot tougher than the Royals, and Arum was hooked on the Sweet Science.

"Ali is definitely the greatest person I ever met in sports," he said. "He was always the most charismatic and most promotable. He was always a true delight, and being around him was like being with a flame on the center of the world's stage."

Being around Arum is a lot like being in a fire on center stage, especially when he is upset about something. He either tells it like it is, like it was or how he thinks it should be. Usually when the cameras are rolling.

Arum Scarem is what we Sun guys endearingly called him. This was usually after he told the Back East boxing writers in a rather loud voice that if they knew as much about the fight game as they did sunning themselves at the Caesars Palace pool, the world would be a better place.

So happy belated birthday, Bob. Thanks for always returning my phone calls. And for all those times you grabbed the microphone when I had 20 column inches to fill with deadline fast approaching.