It isn't only Michelle Wie's tender left wrist that needs a bandage this week.

Her badly bruised image could use one, too.

For sure Wie's slumping career — 20 consecutive rounds at par or worse — needs a good week of golf at the U.S. Women's Open. She could use a lights-out round or two in the worst way. But what she really requires is a healthy attitude adjustment and public relations skills, areas where she has stumbled in the worse way.

Wie needs something to put the focus back on being an effervescent 17-year-old instead of advancing the growing perception of her being an over-indulged, multi-millionaire done no favors by a braintrust out of step with reality.

And that's the saddest part of the considerable struggles that follow her to Pinehurst, N.C., this week for Thursday's opening round, that Wie's defiant sense of entitlement has never been less becoming than these last two tournaments. In the Ginn Tribune and McDonald's LPGA Championship, she was perceived to have turned her nose up at suggestions that she owed anybody, including Annika Sorenstam, the LPGA and its tournaments, an accounting for anything.

It seemed transparent that Wie pulled out of the Ginn Tribute before the final two holes early rather than risk running afoul of the so-called "88 Rule" that would have cost her a spot in any remaining LPGA Tour events this season for shooting a score of 88 or above. Self-preservation is understandable. What was less forgivable was that she dug out so self-absorbed afterward and then dug in on taking much responsibility.

No apology to the sponsors who had granted an exemption or the players who were in line to play had she not taken one. No courtesy to Sorenstam, the event's host and LPGA's most decorated player, who clearly had one coming.

A simple heartfelt apology would have done wonders and cost her so little, but none was forthcoming. And, worse, when Sorenstam and others called her on it, saying, "I just feel that there's a little bit of lack of respect and class just to kind of leave a tournament like that and come out and practice here," Wie still either didn't grasp the situation or just plain didn't care.

"I think I don't need to apologize to anybody about anything," Wie retorted.

In 48 hours she went from too sore to compete to whacking away on the practice course, almost as eyebrow-raising a turn of events as her plunge from adored prodigy to smug princess.

And that was too bad because Sorenstam has been publicly supportive of Wie's well-hyped presence for years, even when she had to be asking herself what the fuss was about for someone yet to win anything.

It is one thing for Wie to commit such gaffs, though with four years of working media rooms you'd think even she would know better. But it is quite another for her advisors, Team Wie, to allow her to go stumbling down this path, if not leading the way.

Between complaints from Wie's pro-am partners, controversy about whether her father, BJ, was coaching inside the ropes and reports her entourage had to be shooed off a practice range by an LPGA official, there has been a growing disconnect this past month. One that is dragging her down.

Wie and her entourage have had a couple weeks to reflect on the string of messy displays. Time, hopefully for Wie's game to come together and wrists to heal. But more important this week is that she and Team Wie get a firm grip on reality.

Reach Ferd Lewis at flewis@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8044.