Jim Souhan: Long on egos and short on substance

First impressions and second thoughts on the world of sports:

Superstar fever -- catch it

You may not have recognized what you were seeing this past week.

You may not have mentally herded Roger Clemens, Brett Favre, Donovan McNabb and Curt Schilling into a pen labeled "Megalomaniacs," but if you did, you should mark down May 2007 as the month when the sense of entitlement among sports stars became a pandemic.

Curt Schilling, on the radio, ripped into Barry Bonds. That would be endearing if Schilling hadn't falsely claimed that Bonds has admitted to tax fraud, adultery and steroid use, and then used the personal blog (with which he usually attacks people he believes have skewed the truth) to apologize for his lies.

Favre chastised the Packers front office for failing to trade for Randy Moss, putting himself ahead of the organizational plan to build from within and with accountable players.

He reportedly even requested a trade from the place that helped make him a legend, then downplayed his desire to leave by consenting to a news release claiming he never "demanded" a trade.

Favre cares enough about winning to beg for Moss and, let's say, "request" a trade, but not enough, according to reports, to attend a voluntary minicamp to work with the Packers' young players.

McNabb said it was "shocking" that the Eagles would draft another quarterback, even though McNabb has failed to finish three of his past five seasons.

And then we have Roger Clemens, the Hall of Fame narcissist, who signed with the Yankees to make about $20 million after skipping spring training and the first six weeks of the season, under the condition that he not be required to follow team rules concerning attendance and travel.

Where did elite athletes get the impression that they were so important they could bend the precepts of their organization to suit their needs? I mean, where, other than the fact that organizations pay them tens of millions of dollars, beg for them to help promote the team and generally grovel at their feet?

They call him ... Tim

Speaking of entitlement, the incessant whining of Spurs star Tim Duncan makes you want to side with Joey Crawford, the referee who was suspended by the NBA after his run-in with Duncan in April.

Stern decisions

Emerson wrote that "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds," and by that measure, NBA commissioner David Stern has some skull space to rent.

His decision to suspend Cheap Shot Bob Horry for two games for putting a hockey hit on Suns star Steve Nash, and to suspend two superior players for a game apiece for leaving the bench area, allows Stern to maintain consistency but reeks of foolishness.

This decision rewards Horry for putting a hit on Nash that could have injured him, and punishes Amare Stoudemire and Boris Diaw for leaving the bench yet controlling their emotions. Horry almost removed the Suns' best player from the game or series, and incited a brawl that cost the Suns two key players in a key game.

Situations like this are why sports leagues are run by people, not computers. People can weigh disparate factors and apply common sense to difficult decisions. Stern failed to do so.

Phil wins and so does golf

Among his many accomplishments as a golf instructor, Butch Harmon has taken two of the most talented golfers in history -- Greg Norman and Tiger Woods -- and turned them into phenomenal drivers.

Harmon's new pupil is one of the most talented golfers in history, one known for wayward drives.

On Sunday afternoon, on one of the toughest courses in the world, Phil Mickelson employed Harmon's teachings to hit 10 of 14 fairways and 16 of 18 greens.

Oakmont and the U.S. Open loom as a promising test of the mercurial rivalry between Harmon's former pupil (Woods) and his new one (Mickelson.)

Jim Souhan can be heard Sundays from 10 a.m.-noon on AM-1500 KSTP. jsouhan@startribune.com