Athletes have become rock stars (and rock stars are becoming politicians; politicians are now celebrities; celebrities are in need of a new identity) and with it all the requisite pathos and drama. Tantrums, drugs, bad relationships that impact their performance, athletes are exhibiting all of the signs of Rock Star Divadom. Jocks went from being blue-collar heroes—Willie Mays playing stickball with kids in New York; I remember seeing Hall of Fame Redskin Art Monk take in a movie near my house; guys whom you might even run into at a bar or in your neighborhood -- to being celebrities, all glittery and distant. They've become the keeper of male virility, paragons of men's style, even models and designers. Combine money, notoriety, an insatiable need for "news" to feed the media beast with young, fit, and somewhat narcissistic personalities and you have a cauldron for development of the modern athlete/diva/rock star temperament. Someone shoves a mike in their faces and they feel compelled to say something, even when they have nothing to say, or at least nothing intelligent. Not all fall victim to it, but enough that the diva athlete is a cliché.
I cite two recent examples for guys to consider: Sean Avery and Plaxico Burress.

Avery, a center for the Dallas Stars is viewed as a talented scorer with a knack for pissing off opponents. He's a bit unconventional (he interned at Vogue last summer), a pain in the ass to manage (Dallas is his third team), and lacking in discretion. Avery received a 6-game suspension for comments made about NHL players getting his "sloppy seconds." It seems ex-girlfriend Elisha Cuthbert is dating Calgary Flames defenseman Dion Phaneuf; and another ex, Rachel Hunter (yeah, that one) is dating LA Kings’ Jarrett Stoll. Its' not the first time he's said something inappropriate about non-players, but usually it’s an off of the cuff remark. This time, he planned it, offering his pearls of wisdom out of context at the pregame press conference. Why? Because he knew someone would stick a mike in his face.

Burress, wide receiver for the NY Giants, is another matter. As I’m sure you’ve heard, he accidentally shot himself in the leg while carrying an unregistered handgun in a club. The team suspended Burress for the rest of the season, to include the playoffs. Earlier this season, mere months after catching  the game-deciding touchdown in the Super Bowl, Burress was suspended for missing a meeting without notice. It was revealed he'd been fined dozens of times in his stint with the Giants. He's never been considered a great teammate and although talented, the Steelers (who drafted him) felt he was enough of a problem to let him.

These two aren’t the only ones –Pacman (sorry, Adam) Jones and his myriad of troubles; his teammate, Terrell Owens; Manny Ramirez pushing a 60+ year old publicist to the ground; Ron Artest. . . . The list goes on. They feel untouchable, above all the rules that you, with the pastrami sandwich at your desk and two o’clock deadline, have to adhere to. And this angers us, the average guy, and obviously fascinates us. The ability to wave a  middle finger at whomever -- fans, coaches, co-workers -- is galling to us who would be out of a job, with few prospects of getting another. You're expected to develop life skills that tell you how to comport in the work place, in public. You know, be an adult, be responsible. Yet we give the divas a pass or turn the other cheek until it impacts our favorite team or us personally.

Not that there aren’t good examples of athletes as responsible men out there, they just don’t get as much ink. Myron Rolle from Florida State comes to mind, foregoing the NFL draft to study at Oxford on a Rhodes scholarship. Or Warrick Dunn, who’s helped 80 low-income families buy their own homes. This doesn't even cover every athlete who does their job without complaint, recognizing the privilege of playing sports for a living, and a damn good one at that. But it's those who flaunt the conventions, count on someone giving them a pass or getting them out of trouble that get the ink. Then again, I remember asking friends who hung around multi-millionaire jocks why some athletes couldn't avoid trouble, considering all the money. One told me that these guys have expected to do what they do and make that kind of money since they were 12. Entitled is probably the word you're thinking of. So it wasn't a privilege, but an expectation. This might explain why so many have trouble adjusting to life outside of the spotlight.