Not all lies are terrible. When Eddie Haskell told the Beaver’s mom, “Gee, Mrs. Cleaver, that sure is a pretty dress you’re wearing,” his white lie about an ugly housedress was harmless. Eddie was a jerk and everyone knew it.

But in business and sports, lies are growing darker. They aren’t lies to ingratiate, but lies to inflate, self-inflate. Sports are, of course, major businesses, with basketball, baseball, football, and even figure skating their own mini-industries. Maybe it’s the money, or the competition, or a combination of both.

For whatever reason, major sports and industry figures are achieving notoriety for their predilection for prevarication.

All winter, businessmen like Denis Koslowski and Bernie Ebbers played truth or dare on the witness stand. This spring, public scrutiny is on the boys of summer and their advisers. Last week, Dr. Elliot J. Pellman, medical adviser for Major League Baseball, was found to have flattered his own resume.

Sports fans barely had time to digest Mark McGwire’s ignominious testimony – or lack thereof – on steroid use by the House Committee on Government Reform a couple of weeks before Dr. Pellman’s resume padding scandal hit the newspapers. You could almost watch Mr. McGwire deflate from hero of the home run to baseball embarrassment as he declined to answer questions from congressmen on advice from counsel.

Dr. Pellman, an internist, is the expert who got up in front of Congress to praise baseball’s steroids policy and bury its critics. Unfortunately, Dr. Pellman had not tested his own credentials before holding himself as a referee for a sport under fire.

Dr. Pellman had identified himself as an associate clinical professor at New York’s Albert Einstein College of Medicine in papers submitted to the House Committee on Government Reform. In point of fact, the good doctor holds an honorary position as assistant clinical professor, a lower rank in the medical pecking order.

In addition, Dr. Pellman did not receive a medical degree from the State University of New York at Stony Brook, as several biographical statements allege. He spent four years at medical school in Guadalajara, Mexico capped by a one-year residency at SUNY Stony Brook. Dr. Pellman’s immediate response was that these lapses were “minor.” And indeed, letters to the editor of various newspapers written by medical colleagues asked, “What’s the big deal?”

White, gray, or whoppers? But Dr. Pellman is certainly not alone. Resume padding is an All-American sport.

According to a study conducted by the New York Times Job Market research team three years ago, almost half of the hiring managers in New York City believe that a significant number of candidates embellish their resumes. Edward Andler’s St. Louis based Certified Reference Checking Company, the foremost resume detective agency, estimates that one third of all applicants lie outright on their resumes. The most frequent fib embellishes education while others stretch employment dates and inflate salaries.

David Callahan, author of “The Cheating Culture: Why More Americans Are Doing Wrong to Get Ahead,” published last year by Harcourt, believes that lying has become the national pastime. Among other depressing statistics gathered in the book, Mr. Callahan estimates that 90% of college students admit that they would cheat to get a job.

In an online interview about his book, Mr. Callahan explains, “We live in a winner-take-all society. Winners get paid more these days, so people will do whatever it takes to be a winner. Meanwhile, everyone is under more pressure to perform well starting from a young age, in school, and extending into the workplace so that they are not left behind by the economy. That kind of stress provides a lot of incentive to cut corners.”

He adds, “I say let’s give the culture war a break and talk about a more troubling shift in American values: the ways that more of us seem to be willing to do anything to get ahead.”

In Greek mythology the goddess Nemesis punished the arrogant. Today arrogance is an asset; steroids, athletic enhancement. Or so it seems.

Ms. Bailey is a writer and therapist in New York. She can be reached at ebailey@nysun.com.