Here at Razzball, we usually try to take the outlandish approach whenever possible. Quite frankly, I'm not sure what the alternative is. So when my favorite player of all-time sucumbs to cancer, I just simply have no idea how to react in this medium. Well, I do have one immediate reaction. Cancer... I’m gonna need you to drive over to my house and put your hands behind your back so I can punch you as hard as possible in the d*ck. But beyond that, what else is there to do? Yes, you'll find many remembrances, comments, and stories about the life and times of Tony Gwynn (all done by much better writers than myself), but I feel like I have to try and briefly add my two cents to the conversation. Because I'm cheap and don't have three cents.
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