My dinner party guest list would consist of Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, Beverly (mom), Penny (wife) Jamison, Mike, and David from the class. It would be a simple barbecue type menu including hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken and lots of beer (For the Babe of course). I think the conversation in part might go something like this;
BJ: Okay, foods done everyone come over and serve yourself.
BR: Dibs on the beer.
PJ: No dibs at dinner.
D: No hogging the beer, babe.
M: Yeah, save some for us less robust people.
BR: Hey, I'm not fat I'm big boned.
JR: Yeah, Babe you tell em. Ha ha.
BJ: Your not fat Babe, your pleasingly plump.
BR: It;s not my fault there were no steroids when I played.
PJ: Like you would have had time to juice with all that drinking and womanizing going on.
BJ: I heard you had problems just showing up at the ballpark on time to warm up.
D: Ha, I bet you had to be up by noon to play in those day games.
M: Ha ha.
JR: If you'd spent as much time on the field as you did in the saloon you'd have been in better shape.
BR: Well kid, a man's gotta sleep sometime.
BJ: Quit picking on the Babe.
PJ: How many home runs would you have hit if you were on steroids, Babe?
BR: Dunno, maybe a thousand or more.
JR: Yeah right! Hank Aaron would have still broke your record.
BR: Maybe, maybe not.
D: What about Barry Bonds?
PJ: Cheater!
M: Yes, he was.
JR: Glad I didn't live to see that.
BR: Me too.
D: Hey Babe, did you really eat 23 hot dogs during a game?
M: Incredible.
BR: That's not true, it was only 18 or so.
BJ: Isn't that the year you went on the disabled list with an upset stomach?
BR: That wasn't my fault, those hot dogs were bad.
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