There’s Rae Carruth, holed up in jail on murder charges. There’s Ray Lewis, on trial for murder. Ricky Williams is arrested in Austin. Sports agents are charged for illegal payouts. Drugs. Fights.

Nick Means and Todd McComb don’t like it.

“I feel that if the NFL gave me a chance to make six digits, Iwouldn’t worry about killing somebody or sexual assault,” said McComb, a Catawba College linebacker. “I’d be satisfied with what I have.”

“It really bothers me,” agrees Means, McComb’s teammate. “People outside football try to stereotype. You get looked upon as bad for the mistakes of a few. And that’s not fair to the good guys.”

Make no mistake about it. Means and McComb are the good guys.

They’re both freshmen. They’re roomies. They help each other with their homework. And they’re both former stars at the football factory known as Thomasville High.

“They’re practically brothers,” said Catawba coach David Bennett.

And in Bennett’s eyes, that’s perfect. He preaches family and church to his recruits. He, like most everyone whose job is in football, gets fed up with the negative press the sport has been receiving while young people like Means and McComb are almost forgotten.

“It’s always the bad news that is printed,” scoffed Bennett, “so it’s such a joy to read about the good news that’s out there. And that’s these two special young men.”

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Bennett says the two are competitive in a good way.

But Means has resigned himself to the fact that his hometown buddy has beaten him — just barely — during their first year in college.

Although Means led the team in receiving this past season for the 11-2 national playoff Indians, McComb was All-South Region. When grades came out last semester, Means had a 3.61 in information systems. Pretty good, huh?

McComb had a 3.62 in business.

“Todd was walking around like a peacock, his chest all stuck out,” Bennett laughed.

And then, there was the touchdown against Carson-Newman in the playoffs.

The linebacker’s touchdown.

“Against Carson-Newman, he scored and he plays defense,” Means said, shaking his head. “We have some competition in the classroom and on the field and he beat me this year. I’ll just try harder next semester.”

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There are reasons McComb and Means are just as good in their work off the field as on it — good role models in Thomasville.

“My mother was a teacher in my elementary school,” Means pointed out. “Teachers like Mrs. Leak and Mrs. Moss (students never remember first names, just the ‘Mrs.’) would tell my mother if I did something.

“It makes you studious. How can your mother teach somebody else’s kid when her own kid doesn’t behave?”

“From Day 1, my parents kept me on the right road,” he said. “They brought me up so I’d have a good church background.”

It makes Bennett swell with pride.

“Both will be very successful after they graduate,” he praised. “Icalled their room one night and there was gospel music playing in the background.

“They’re blessed. They’re blessed academically, character-wise and athletically.

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Boy, how they are blessed athletically.

The roommates came to Catawba with high expectations but no promises of playing. But when the season was over, they were recognized as key starters.

“We didn’t guarantee them anything,” Bennett said. “Both surpassed anything we thought they could do.”

“I didn’t think we’d have as much of an impact as we did,” Means said. “But when Todd makes a big play, I say, ‘That’s my man.’ He’s a Bulldog. I’m a Bulldog.”

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Today, they’ll both be Indians playing on the same team in the annual Blue-White spring game at 4 p.m. in Shuford Stadium.

It’s the annual steak vs. beanie weenies contest. You can guess which team will eat the beanie-weenies — the losers.

“I’m eating steak,” assured Means, who said he had enough of beanie weenies as a child..

“Man, don’t be saying that,” said the more serious McComb, obviously envisioning the other team reading the paper before the game.

But that’s the way they are. Always playing. Always picking.

“Todd’s got that deep voice that sounds like Barry White,” Bennett chuckled. “He’s not very animated.

“Nick? You’ve got to put a gag on him.”

That was evident when the Post photographer was trying to set the two up for a picture. McComb was attempting to put a calculus problem on the board and Means was cajoling him every step of the way.

“You got it all lopsided,” he said. “Point to something. Hey, smile like you wanna be seen with me.”

McComb just gave him a deadpan stare.

“We’ve known each other since we were 8,” he sighed. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

The final photo taken was one of Nick Means and Todd McComb putting their arms around each other. They were smiling. They were content. They were happy.

They are the football players that you seldom read about on the front page anymore.

They are the good ones.

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