"Since I was the youngest post-rookie, they sent me out to Clown Alley -- with hazy directions and instructions to bring back about ten bacon and cheese burgers and an enormous amount of French fries and onion rings.
"It took me a while to find Clown Alley, figure out where to park the limo, and get the hamburgers and fries and onion rings. When I got back…," Griff paused.
"...Well, I can't tell you what happened next. But sometimes Dad stays at the St Francis (when a conference is paying for it). The doorman there remembers me, so that is why Dad and I usually meet in Chinatown."
"Next stop
Clown Alley," Griff remarked, after they had crossed the bridge into San Francisco, "and on the way there, I will tell you the story of how after we beat the 49ers -- at the time when this was a regular Bay Area rivalry, and they weren’t so good -- a bunch of us climbed into the ancient midnight-black limo that some of the younger players, under the leadership of the Defensive Tackle whom we called King Arthur, had acquired for the purpose of bar-hopping. We pulled up at the St. Francis Hotel on Union Square, where we weren't completely welcome.