AN: HAHAHAHA! If only ya'll knew what the real reason Mac and Amanda were
there! Guess you'll have to read to find out!
I tried something new and got Betaed! So just want to put out a quick thank you to LoMaRiBa
Alynna: um, at the risk of sounding very stupid uh, what does IMHO mean?
Richie returned a few minutes later. He rolled his eyes as soon as he noticed the quickening wasn't there. 'He better not have left any money.' Richie thought shaking his head as he went to gather the rest of the dishes. He picked Duncan's keys up off the table, when he was about to pocket them, he noticed the key chain.
"Wait a minute; Mac doesn't drive a Land. . . Oh, no!" he groaned. He ran out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. "Mac!" he yelled as soon as the buzz hit him. He rounded the corner and spotted Duncan and Amanda leaning on a brand new army green Land Rover. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."
"What do you think it is?" Duncan asked.
"I think that's what you came down here about. And it better not be." Duncan just smiled at him. "Mac! No!" Richie tried to hand him the keys back; Duncan stuck his hands in his pocket. "Take 'em."
"You need a way to get around down here," Duncan said innocently.
"They're called feet, Mac. Everything is just around the corner no matter where you are. And since when did you think I need a way to get around? I've always walked."
"It's a gift, then."
"For what?" Richie demanded.
"Birthday?" Duncan shrugged.
"Laptop," he reminded him.
"Congrats on school?"
"Cell phone and tuition."
"Thanks for lunch?"
"Nope," Richie shook his head and crossed his arms.
"Tip?"
"No, Mac. No, no, no, okay? No. I'm not taking this."
"Why not?"
"Because, Mac," Richie said exasperatedly.
"Well. I'm not taking it back."
"Then we have a problem."
The back door to the Stadium opened and a man stepped out. "Hey, Ryan! Taking a break?"
"I'll be right there!" Richie called back. "Look, that's my boss, okay? So I gotta go. Just take the car back from where ever you got it."
"No," Duncan answered pushing Richie's out stretched hand away.
"Mac, you can't leave this here," Richie insisted.
"Watch me," Duncan smiled opening the door to the T-Bird, which was parked next to the Land Rover, for Amanda before getting in himself. "See you in Paris," he added before putting the car in gear and driving away.
. . . . . .
Three hours later Richie stood in front of the Land Rover with his hands on his hips.
"I can't believe he did this," he moaned unlocking the door and climbing in tossing his apron in the passenger seat. He glanced around for the special features the he knew Duncan wouldn't have been able to resist: sunroof, CD player, power everything. . . It was all there. Slowly Richie reached for the glove box, praying it was empty. . . It wasn't. Inside there was an envelope and some new CDs. Knowing there was no way he was going to be able to give back the CDs (his music collection had become an obsessive compulsive issue) he reached for the envelope, he opened it and pulled out a credit card and a note.
'Re-stock fridge
Gas
School supplies
Emergencies (Heather doesn't count)
-Mac'
"You friggin'. . ." Richie couldn't come up with anything to call Duncan. "You are impossible!"
. . . . . .
"Woah, man, what's with you?" John asked as Richie stormed into their dorm room without closing the door and dropped face first onto his bed.
Richie rolled over and held up the keys. "He gave me a car," he said as if he had been given a large bag off dog droppings.
"A car? Is it here?" John asked excitedly crawling up on the desk to get a better view out of the window. "Which one is it?"
"Green Land Rover."
"Sweet, dude! Who gave it to you?"
"Mac."
"I thought he was in Washington." John turned and sat on the desk facing Richie.
"So did I. But he was at the Stadium today and gave me a car."
Kyle, from across the hall (Jeremy's roommate,) stepped in at the mention of the car. "Who got a car?" he asked.
"Richie," John answered. "Check it out, man; it's sweet." He pointed it out to Kyle.
"That's yours? That is so cool. You have the best car on the floor, hell, probably the entire school!" Kyle announced making himself comfortable on John's bed. "At least the most expensive."
"I'm not keeping it," Richie assured him sitting up as well making room for Andrew from down the hall who had been lured into the room by the excited conversation.
"Keeping what?" Andrew asked.
"This totally awesome Land Rover," Kyle answered.
"And knowing this Mac guy, I bet it's totally tricked out, too," John added.
"You got a Land Rover?" Andrew asked at the same time that Kyle said, "Who's Mac?"
"Yes," Richie answered. "But I'm not keeping it. And Mac's this guy I lived with for a while back home. I worked for him, too."
"Hell, does he do this for all his employees? Where do I sign up?" John joked.
"You lived with him? I don't think he's over you, man," Kyle said.
"What do you mean- - - Oh! No! Dude no, no, no! Nothing like that," Richie quickly corrected him.
"Then what was it?" Andrew asked with a grin nudging Richie in the ribs.
"A very long, very complicated story. But it basically ends up with us being friends. He's just older and richer and likes to give me stuff."
"I wanna be friends with him."
"He'll drive you nuts, trust me."
"If he drives you so nuts why don't you just ditch him?" Kyle asked.
"I kinda owe him."
"So you pay him back by letting him buy you stuff? Sweet deal."
"How do you owe him?" John asked becoming very curious about his roommate's situation.
Richie thought for a minute. "I moved in with him and this woman as kinda a foster family-type-deal. About a year after that Tessa, the woman, got killed. We kinda bonded in our grief, ya know? Since then Mac's had this overwhelming compulsion to take care of me, and he does that by making sure I always have what I need and then some. He's paying for what isn't covered by my scholarship, and he fronted me some of my pay at work, and he's just trying to be nice, but it drives me insane. I don't need a car, I don't need a credit card, I don't need any more CDs, but I can't get that through to him."
"He got you more CDs? What'd he get you?" Andrew asked throwing a glance at Richie's already expansive music selection.
"I didn't look, if I look I'll keep them, and I can't. It's all going back as soon as I can figure out how to get it to Washington."
"Can't we at least take it all for a spin?" John asked sliding off the desk.
"Yeah!" Andrew and Kyle chorused.
"You can't tell me you don't want to at least drive it around for a while," John said. "You know you want to."
A smirk slowly spread across Richie's face. "It does handle like nothing I've ever had before," he said quietly.
"See? Let's go."
"Yeah, let's go show Jeremy; he should be getting off soon," Kyle suggested.
"Can you imagine the look on his face when we pull up in that thing?" Andrew asked standing up. "C'mon Rich you gotta let us at least have a ride."
"And test out the stereo," Kyle added.
"Wadaya say, man?" John gestured to the door.
"Well, he did say I could use the card for groceries. . . And we're a little low on anything resembling food," Richie said thoughtfully looking in the corner at the mini fridge and empty shelf.
"And a little low on anything resembling what we need to buy the food, a.k.a. money," John pointed out.
"And we could get some beer," Andrew said slyly. Kyle and John grinned appreciatively.
"No, way," Richie said forcefully. "You wanna do that, then I'm not involved."
"C'mon, man, we're in college it's time to party!" Kyle informed him slinging an arm around Richie's neck. "Don't be such a wet blanket."
"Look, my situation is a little more, uh, fragile then you guys' is. As much as I want to, I can't. We go out tonight, it's all perfectly legal," Richie insisted.
"Fine," John said. "Perfectly legal. Now can we go check this ride out in person or what?"
. . . . . .
After two hours of driving around with the widows down, the sunroof open, and the stereo up Richie turned around and headed back to campus.
"There's a game tomorrow," he said over the protests from the back seat. "Game equals curfew, guys, you know that."
"Is all part of your 'fragile situation'?" Kyle grumbled.
"Yeah, it is. I can't risk getting caught, so that means me and my car are going to bed. You can do whatever," Richie shot back.
"Come on, guys; leave the guy alone. It's not his fault he has conscience. And he's right, the last thing I want is to get caught and benched," John defended him.
"Man, this is why we play football. No Coach Roberts and his stupid rules," Jeremy said.
"Well Coach Roberts and his stupid rules are why basketball's in the Big Twelve and football's in the crapper," Richie said with a smug grin.
"Oh, ho ho! How do ya like them apples?" John laughed turning to face Jeremy.
. . . . . .
"Dude, that thing is sweet!" John exclaimed stripping down to his boxers leaving his clothes in the middle of the floor.
"Don't get used to it," Richie reminded him tossing his clothes onto the pile of dirty clothes at the bottom of his closet. "It's all going back."
"All?" John questioned with a grin running his fingers through his shaggy hair.
"Well, not the CDs. I don't want to be rude or anything," Richie answered grinning himself. Duncan had gotten him the new Will Smith CD, Elvis (which nobody else seemed to like), The Beatles, some girl group he'd never heard of called TLC but he like what he had heard, and Richie's personal favorite, Queen. "But the car and the credit card. . . Well the car is defiantly going back."
"How can you say that?"
"Because I can't keep it," Richie shrugged crawling into bed.
"You should."
"It's not your choice."
John shook his head and turned off the lights. "Whatever, man." The room fell silent for a couple minutes. "Hey, Rich?"
"Uh?" Richie grunted.
"What is your. . . Why are you. . . Uh, how come. . ." he fumbled over the words.
"Spit it out, dude."
"Well, you seem like such a 'go for it' type of guy. I mean, I'd expect you to be first in line for a beer. But tonight, you weren't like that at all."
"I just can't risk getting in trouble," Richie said. "We get caught, you get benched; I get tossed."
"But you haven't done anything," John insisted.
"It's a long story, trust me."
"Its not like either one of us is sleeping."
Richie sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. John deserved to know why his roommate was such a pushover goody goody. "Okay. But what I tell you, you never repeat, got it?"
"I've seen you in the gym, Rich. I know you can kick my ass, I'm not gonna tell."
"Okay. You know how I told you I did that whole foster home thing as a kid?"
"Uh-huh,"
"Well, I lived with Greg Masters for awhile."
"Greg Masters as in the highest PPG* average in the NCAA?" John interrupted excitedly.
"Yeah. So he played for Roberts in Washington when he was in school. And he used to take me to all the home games when I was a kid. After the games we would go down to the locker room and Dad. . . Greg," he corrected. "Would talk to Roberts and I'd bug the players, try on their jerseys show them whatever cool move I had just learned, give 'em a good laugh. For five years I was obsessed with getting straight A's so I could go to the games, 'cause that was the rule. Da- - Greg kept telling me that if I worked hard and kept my grades up I could play for Roberts, just like him."
"So what does that have to do with getting into trouble?"
"When I was 13, Greg's job transferred him. So, he filed for adoption. He promised me that no matter where we lived when I graduated, as long as I still wanted to, I'd play."
"For Roberts," John added.
"Right."
"So the adoption never went through?"
"No, I have this bad habit of getting attached to un-qualified parents. If you're single you can be a foster parent, but you can't adopt. Don't as me why, I don't think it makes any sense. So Greg moved and I stayed. Anyway, around my junior year Roberts moved here and because of budget cuts, there was no way I was going to get the free ride I needed to go to school. So I stopped caring. My grades plummeted and I started getting into trouble, even got arrested a couple times."
"Woah," John sat up. "So why'd Roberts let you play?"
"After school I met Mac, he kinda gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get going again. I've been trouble free for a year. And when I tried out, Roberts let me in as a favor to Greg. . . With a few very strict conditions."
"Such as?"
"My grades. Anything below a 3.5 and I'm benched. Anything below a 3.2; I'm out."
"Damn."
"You're tellin' me. No 'amended' tests, no skipping unless I'm on my deathbed, no extensions, no exceptions. I get into trouble with anybody; my boss, Profs, another player, another student, I get shipped back. I already have two strikes, I can't risk a third."
"Look, man, I'm sorry we were teasing you earlier. If I had known. . ."
"Don't worry about it."
"So, you're letting Mac pay for school so you can do what Greg Masters promised you would."
"Basically," Richie shrugged.
"Does he know?"
"Who? Mac?"
"Yeah. Does he know why you're really here?"
"No. I just told him I wanted to play for Roberts, I didn't say why. It'd bad enough I'm Mac's charity case, I don't what the whole world knowing that I'm on Roberts' good deed list, too."
"Dude, it's not that big a deal," John assured him.
"It is to me. So don't say anything."
"Not a word," John promised.
"Good," Richie lay back down and closed his eyes. It felt good to tell someone. At least there was one other person on campus that knew he wasn't a total pushover. Well, two. Miller seemed to have high expectations of what Richie was capable of. Richie made a mental note to find Mike and ask him about Miller.
AN: I have been asked why Richie hasn't tried to get a hold of Greg now that he's playing for Roberts. Don't worry, that will be reviled soon. You'll just have to read to find out.
*PPG average: Points Per Game (AKA Highest scoring player)
I tried something new and got Betaed! So just want to put out a quick thank you to LoMaRiBa
Alynna: um, at the risk of sounding very stupid uh, what does IMHO mean?
Richie returned a few minutes later. He rolled his eyes as soon as he noticed the quickening wasn't there. 'He better not have left any money.' Richie thought shaking his head as he went to gather the rest of the dishes. He picked Duncan's keys up off the table, when he was about to pocket them, he noticed the key chain.
"Wait a minute; Mac doesn't drive a Land. . . Oh, no!" he groaned. He ran out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. "Mac!" he yelled as soon as the buzz hit him. He rounded the corner and spotted Duncan and Amanda leaning on a brand new army green Land Rover. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."
"What do you think it is?" Duncan asked.
"I think that's what you came down here about. And it better not be." Duncan just smiled at him. "Mac! No!" Richie tried to hand him the keys back; Duncan stuck his hands in his pocket. "Take 'em."
"You need a way to get around down here," Duncan said innocently.
"They're called feet, Mac. Everything is just around the corner no matter where you are. And since when did you think I need a way to get around? I've always walked."
"It's a gift, then."
"For what?" Richie demanded.
"Birthday?" Duncan shrugged.
"Laptop," he reminded him.
"Congrats on school?"
"Cell phone and tuition."
"Thanks for lunch?"
"Nope," Richie shook his head and crossed his arms.
"Tip?"
"No, Mac. No, no, no, okay? No. I'm not taking this."
"Why not?"
"Because, Mac," Richie said exasperatedly.
"Well. I'm not taking it back."
"Then we have a problem."
The back door to the Stadium opened and a man stepped out. "Hey, Ryan! Taking a break?"
"I'll be right there!" Richie called back. "Look, that's my boss, okay? So I gotta go. Just take the car back from where ever you got it."
"No," Duncan answered pushing Richie's out stretched hand away.
"Mac, you can't leave this here," Richie insisted.
"Watch me," Duncan smiled opening the door to the T-Bird, which was parked next to the Land Rover, for Amanda before getting in himself. "See you in Paris," he added before putting the car in gear and driving away.
. . . . . .
Three hours later Richie stood in front of the Land Rover with his hands on his hips.
"I can't believe he did this," he moaned unlocking the door and climbing in tossing his apron in the passenger seat. He glanced around for the special features the he knew Duncan wouldn't have been able to resist: sunroof, CD player, power everything. . . It was all there. Slowly Richie reached for the glove box, praying it was empty. . . It wasn't. Inside there was an envelope and some new CDs. Knowing there was no way he was going to be able to give back the CDs (his music collection had become an obsessive compulsive issue) he reached for the envelope, he opened it and pulled out a credit card and a note.
'Re-stock fridge
Gas
School supplies
Emergencies (Heather doesn't count)
-Mac'
"You friggin'. . ." Richie couldn't come up with anything to call Duncan. "You are impossible!"
. . . . . .
"Woah, man, what's with you?" John asked as Richie stormed into their dorm room without closing the door and dropped face first onto his bed.
Richie rolled over and held up the keys. "He gave me a car," he said as if he had been given a large bag off dog droppings.
"A car? Is it here?" John asked excitedly crawling up on the desk to get a better view out of the window. "Which one is it?"
"Green Land Rover."
"Sweet, dude! Who gave it to you?"
"Mac."
"I thought he was in Washington." John turned and sat on the desk facing Richie.
"So did I. But he was at the Stadium today and gave me a car."
Kyle, from across the hall (Jeremy's roommate,) stepped in at the mention of the car. "Who got a car?" he asked.
"Richie," John answered. "Check it out, man; it's sweet." He pointed it out to Kyle.
"That's yours? That is so cool. You have the best car on the floor, hell, probably the entire school!" Kyle announced making himself comfortable on John's bed. "At least the most expensive."
"I'm not keeping it," Richie assured him sitting up as well making room for Andrew from down the hall who had been lured into the room by the excited conversation.
"Keeping what?" Andrew asked.
"This totally awesome Land Rover," Kyle answered.
"And knowing this Mac guy, I bet it's totally tricked out, too," John added.
"You got a Land Rover?" Andrew asked at the same time that Kyle said, "Who's Mac?"
"Yes," Richie answered. "But I'm not keeping it. And Mac's this guy I lived with for a while back home. I worked for him, too."
"Hell, does he do this for all his employees? Where do I sign up?" John joked.
"You lived with him? I don't think he's over you, man," Kyle said.
"What do you mean- - - Oh! No! Dude no, no, no! Nothing like that," Richie quickly corrected him.
"Then what was it?" Andrew asked with a grin nudging Richie in the ribs.
"A very long, very complicated story. But it basically ends up with us being friends. He's just older and richer and likes to give me stuff."
"I wanna be friends with him."
"He'll drive you nuts, trust me."
"If he drives you so nuts why don't you just ditch him?" Kyle asked.
"I kinda owe him."
"So you pay him back by letting him buy you stuff? Sweet deal."
"How do you owe him?" John asked becoming very curious about his roommate's situation.
Richie thought for a minute. "I moved in with him and this woman as kinda a foster family-type-deal. About a year after that Tessa, the woman, got killed. We kinda bonded in our grief, ya know? Since then Mac's had this overwhelming compulsion to take care of me, and he does that by making sure I always have what I need and then some. He's paying for what isn't covered by my scholarship, and he fronted me some of my pay at work, and he's just trying to be nice, but it drives me insane. I don't need a car, I don't need a credit card, I don't need any more CDs, but I can't get that through to him."
"He got you more CDs? What'd he get you?" Andrew asked throwing a glance at Richie's already expansive music selection.
"I didn't look, if I look I'll keep them, and I can't. It's all going back as soon as I can figure out how to get it to Washington."
"Can't we at least take it all for a spin?" John asked sliding off the desk.
"Yeah!" Andrew and Kyle chorused.
"You can't tell me you don't want to at least drive it around for a while," John said. "You know you want to."
A smirk slowly spread across Richie's face. "It does handle like nothing I've ever had before," he said quietly.
"See? Let's go."
"Yeah, let's go show Jeremy; he should be getting off soon," Kyle suggested.
"Can you imagine the look on his face when we pull up in that thing?" Andrew asked standing up. "C'mon Rich you gotta let us at least have a ride."
"And test out the stereo," Kyle added.
"Wadaya say, man?" John gestured to the door.
"Well, he did say I could use the card for groceries. . . And we're a little low on anything resembling food," Richie said thoughtfully looking in the corner at the mini fridge and empty shelf.
"And a little low on anything resembling what we need to buy the food, a.k.a. money," John pointed out.
"And we could get some beer," Andrew said slyly. Kyle and John grinned appreciatively.
"No, way," Richie said forcefully. "You wanna do that, then I'm not involved."
"C'mon, man, we're in college it's time to party!" Kyle informed him slinging an arm around Richie's neck. "Don't be such a wet blanket."
"Look, my situation is a little more, uh, fragile then you guys' is. As much as I want to, I can't. We go out tonight, it's all perfectly legal," Richie insisted.
"Fine," John said. "Perfectly legal. Now can we go check this ride out in person or what?"
. . . . . .
After two hours of driving around with the widows down, the sunroof open, and the stereo up Richie turned around and headed back to campus.
"There's a game tomorrow," he said over the protests from the back seat. "Game equals curfew, guys, you know that."
"Is all part of your 'fragile situation'?" Kyle grumbled.
"Yeah, it is. I can't risk getting caught, so that means me and my car are going to bed. You can do whatever," Richie shot back.
"Come on, guys; leave the guy alone. It's not his fault he has conscience. And he's right, the last thing I want is to get caught and benched," John defended him.
"Man, this is why we play football. No Coach Roberts and his stupid rules," Jeremy said.
"Well Coach Roberts and his stupid rules are why basketball's in the Big Twelve and football's in the crapper," Richie said with a smug grin.
"Oh, ho ho! How do ya like them apples?" John laughed turning to face Jeremy.
. . . . . .
"Dude, that thing is sweet!" John exclaimed stripping down to his boxers leaving his clothes in the middle of the floor.
"Don't get used to it," Richie reminded him tossing his clothes onto the pile of dirty clothes at the bottom of his closet. "It's all going back."
"All?" John questioned with a grin running his fingers through his shaggy hair.
"Well, not the CDs. I don't want to be rude or anything," Richie answered grinning himself. Duncan had gotten him the new Will Smith CD, Elvis (which nobody else seemed to like), The Beatles, some girl group he'd never heard of called TLC but he like what he had heard, and Richie's personal favorite, Queen. "But the car and the credit card. . . Well the car is defiantly going back."
"How can you say that?"
"Because I can't keep it," Richie shrugged crawling into bed.
"You should."
"It's not your choice."
John shook his head and turned off the lights. "Whatever, man." The room fell silent for a couple minutes. "Hey, Rich?"
"Uh?" Richie grunted.
"What is your. . . Why are you. . . Uh, how come. . ." he fumbled over the words.
"Spit it out, dude."
"Well, you seem like such a 'go for it' type of guy. I mean, I'd expect you to be first in line for a beer. But tonight, you weren't like that at all."
"I just can't risk getting in trouble," Richie said. "We get caught, you get benched; I get tossed."
"But you haven't done anything," John insisted.
"It's a long story, trust me."
"Its not like either one of us is sleeping."
Richie sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. John deserved to know why his roommate was such a pushover goody goody. "Okay. But what I tell you, you never repeat, got it?"
"I've seen you in the gym, Rich. I know you can kick my ass, I'm not gonna tell."
"Okay. You know how I told you I did that whole foster home thing as a kid?"
"Uh-huh,"
"Well, I lived with Greg Masters for awhile."
"Greg Masters as in the highest PPG* average in the NCAA?" John interrupted excitedly.
"Yeah. So he played for Roberts in Washington when he was in school. And he used to take me to all the home games when I was a kid. After the games we would go down to the locker room and Dad. . . Greg," he corrected. "Would talk to Roberts and I'd bug the players, try on their jerseys show them whatever cool move I had just learned, give 'em a good laugh. For five years I was obsessed with getting straight A's so I could go to the games, 'cause that was the rule. Da- - Greg kept telling me that if I worked hard and kept my grades up I could play for Roberts, just like him."
"So what does that have to do with getting into trouble?"
"When I was 13, Greg's job transferred him. So, he filed for adoption. He promised me that no matter where we lived when I graduated, as long as I still wanted to, I'd play."
"For Roberts," John added.
"Right."
"So the adoption never went through?"
"No, I have this bad habit of getting attached to un-qualified parents. If you're single you can be a foster parent, but you can't adopt. Don't as me why, I don't think it makes any sense. So Greg moved and I stayed. Anyway, around my junior year Roberts moved here and because of budget cuts, there was no way I was going to get the free ride I needed to go to school. So I stopped caring. My grades plummeted and I started getting into trouble, even got arrested a couple times."
"Woah," John sat up. "So why'd Roberts let you play?"
"After school I met Mac, he kinda gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get going again. I've been trouble free for a year. And when I tried out, Roberts let me in as a favor to Greg. . . With a few very strict conditions."
"Such as?"
"My grades. Anything below a 3.5 and I'm benched. Anything below a 3.2; I'm out."
"Damn."
"You're tellin' me. No 'amended' tests, no skipping unless I'm on my deathbed, no extensions, no exceptions. I get into trouble with anybody; my boss, Profs, another player, another student, I get shipped back. I already have two strikes, I can't risk a third."
"Look, man, I'm sorry we were teasing you earlier. If I had known. . ."
"Don't worry about it."
"So, you're letting Mac pay for school so you can do what Greg Masters promised you would."
"Basically," Richie shrugged.
"Does he know?"
"Who? Mac?"
"Yeah. Does he know why you're really here?"
"No. I just told him I wanted to play for Roberts, I didn't say why. It'd bad enough I'm Mac's charity case, I don't what the whole world knowing that I'm on Roberts' good deed list, too."
"Dude, it's not that big a deal," John assured him.
"It is to me. So don't say anything."
"Not a word," John promised.
"Good," Richie lay back down and closed his eyes. It felt good to tell someone. At least there was one other person on campus that knew he wasn't a total pushover. Well, two. Miller seemed to have high expectations of what Richie was capable of. Richie made a mental note to find Mike and ask him about Miller.
AN: I have been asked why Richie hasn't tried to get a hold of Greg now that he's playing for Roberts. Don't worry, that will be reviled soon. You'll just have to read to find out.
*PPG average: Points Per Game (AKA Highest scoring player)