The Restaurant where Caydance took Griff on Friday night before the Wolves game was off Skyline Drive near Woodside, so deep in the Redwoods that Griff thought they were in another world. The night of September 29, 1989 was too cool to sit outside, but Caydance had reserved a table beside a large window, which overlooked a dense forest of tall redwoods and lush undergrowth. "This is the perfect place to stop pacing the floor devising last minute game plans for which the team never practiced," he said. "And you reserved the most desirable table."

"I used your name." On the table was a basket of warm from the oven sour dough bread, accompanied by a dipping sauce of melted unsalted French butter. Caydance asked the waiter who seated them to please bring a platter of garlic and lime roasted shrimp to their table.

"It has been more than five years," Griff said "since I was routinely called off the bench when a spectacular catch was needed, and the odds were good that I would make that catch before my knee gave out. I am happy that my name still has clout."

A waiter appeared with a menu. Griff studied the array of steak entries. Herb-crusted filet mignon; entrecote a la bordelaise; chateaubriand filet de boeuf roti en croute de champignons; char-grilled sirloin steak with garlic butter; rib roast with potatoes gratin; grilled porterhouse steak with chili aioli and fall vegetables; butter-basted rib eye steaks; steak au poivre with simmered red wine sauce; a summer salad of spinach, tomatoes, pine nuts, parmesan, and honey garlic vinaigrette; steak and chips with bearnaise sauce; T-bone steak with smoky barbecue sauce and roast corn; California steak fries; asparagus fries; Mediterranean potatoes; beer battered onion rings.

Caydance was driving. As if he was on the road again, Griff asked the bartender who appeared at their table for a tall Maker's Mark with ice.