Of course, you can't talk pantheon of pudge without mentioning Babe Ruth. It has always irritated me that people think Ruth was fat for his whole career. As a young man, he was tall and well-proportioned, the rare 1920s athlete who wouldn't look out of place in modern times. But you can't inhale beer and hot dogs forever and stay trim. Amazingly though, the Babe stayed productive. As a fat 37-year-old, he batted .341 with 41 homers and 137 RBIs. Ken Griffey Jr. wishes he aged so well.

Ruth is one of my favorite time-machine athletes. As in, if you owned a time machine and could bring him to the modern era exactly as he was in 1927, how would he do? Would his love of wine, women and food render him a laughingstock in an age when we're less tolerant of gluttonous men? Would his lack of fitness leave him unable to compete with the ripped modern athlete? Would he be the John Daly of baseball?

I'd like to think the Babe would do fine because no matter what he did to himself, he always dominated on the field.

Back to our Hall of Fat. I'm skeptical of including NFL linemen because extreme bulk is part of their job description. Maybe Refrigerator Perry slides in because he scored a touchdown in the Super Bowl, the type of fantasy that's normally off limits to fat boys.

Baseball is ripe with candidates. You have David Wells, who worshiped Ruth and defied his critics by pitching effectively into his 40s. There's Cecil Fielder and his son, Prince (an athlete named Prince almost has to be a wonderfully gifted fat dude, right?) And my favorite of all might be Rich Garces, aka "El Guapo." Garces wasn't a great talent, but he was an effective reliever for several years despite being the only pro I can remember who appeared as wide as he was tall. He gets extra points because he baffled hitters with a delivery that made it look like the ball was tumbling out of his ample midsection.

This choice might not connect with some readers but I always loved boxer James Toney, who won his first title at 160 pounds but somehow remained competitive as a pudgy, 5-foot-9 heavyweight. Toney was the rare guy who looked completely at home in a prize ring. You'd have thought he was sipping cocktails in a lounge chair as bikini models fanned him. He could stand two inches from an opponent and, with the slightest torques of his body or head, slip the worst damage. And he talked a lot of smack ... perfect for our little club.

I'm just getting the dough ball rolling here. Please submit other suggestions for the Hall of Fat. And Levance, keep playing the way you have and your plaque (crossed chicken wings for an emblem?) will be in the mail.