Flew to Chicago a couple months ago for a bachelor party, which was awesome, that included many of the requisite stops. Nearly being blown into Lake Michigan at the end of the Navy Pier was fun. The pizza at Giordano's was amazing. The steak at David Burke's Prime House made me question my roots. I won a ballcap at Scores - Chicago...and you can feel free to ask how I won that, once you Google "Scores" and "Chicago" in the same search.
But, the most intellectually stimulating portion of the bachelor party was spent at the most nostalgic event, our trip to Wrigley. My first trip, and something I've wanted to experience my entire life. It was late May, which at Wrigley means balls cold with fog flowing in from center field. We sat right on the wall in the left field corner, where an usher politely schooled us on the "Bartman" rules of conduct. (i.e., don't sit anything on the ledge, and FOR GOD'S SAKE, DON"T INTERFERE WITH ALFONSO SORIANO).
At any rate, the most intellectually stimulating portion of the bachelor's party, which included much pontification on matters as disperse as barbecue, women, fantasy baseball trades, and Chicago blues, centered around whether or not Omar Vizquel is a worthy entrant to the Baseball Hall of Fame.
I will let everyone debate his merits, but the crux of the matter comes to this: do you credit him for his obvious non-steroid use, great fielding, and longevity...or do you discount him because he played, for a time, in an era where shortstops, steroids or no, provided heightened offensive production.
So, I will let you finish this debate, set among great food, great beer, great women, and most importantly, great friendship among men, to determine not whether Vizquel is worthy, but rather if the voters who decide such matters will put him in the Baseball Hall of Fame.