Before there were $252 million contracts, $200,000 minimum salaries and $15 per autograph card shows, many baseball players spent their offseasons working, not working out. They sold insurance and real estate, worked in factories, taught classes and generally did whatever else they could to pay the bills and keep them in nehru jackets and bell bottom jeans.

My favorite winter occupation was that of former pitcher Al Williams. According to the back of his baseball card (and is there any more reliable source of information than that?), Williams spent his offseasons in the early '80s "as a freedom fighter in Nicaragua."

Now that would make for an interesting spring training interview.

With so much free time on their hands, players don't have anything to do anymore except sit around and compare their contracts to other players. And that's when they run into trouble.

Reporter: Hey Al, how was your winter?

Williams: Pretty good. I worked a little on my screwball, helped Robert Jordan blow up a mountain bridge in enemy-held territory, returned farm land to oppressed villagers and had a very interesting encounter with Ollie North and a secret arms shipment.

Reporter: Great, great. How's the screwball coming along?

Those days are long gone, however. With financial security, ballplayers are able to maintain winter-long fitness schedules that bring them to spring training in better shape than they will leave it after a month and a half on a $70 per diem and a stack of coupons to Hooter's.

Because of all that, spring training no longer needs to be anywhere near as long as it does (after all, it lasted less than four weeks in 1990 without the world spinning off its axis). Next to a lack of available tee times, the most frequent complaint in spring clubhouses is that spring training lasts longer than it should. By late next week, players will be so impatient for the season to begin that many will look a little too much like Jack Nicholson just before he went after that greasy-haired Shelly Duvall with a Louisville Slugger.

With so much free time on their hands, players don't have anything to do anymore except sit around and compare their contracts to other players. And that's when they run into trouble.

Pretty soon Frank Thomas notices that Alex Rodriguez is making more than twice as much as he is. Gary Sheffield notices that Shawn Green is making 50 percent more than he is. Barry Bonds notices that Ken Griffey Jr. is making 50 percent more than he is. And before long, they're moaning about their low pay, fleeing camp or demanding a trade.

Nice timing. With the economy slinking toward recession, companies laying off employees by the thousands and the Nasdaq dropping like Kevin Brown's sinker, these players are so blatantly out of line that not even their teammates will defend them. With another ugly round of labor negotiations approaching, they know Thomas and friends set baseball back further than Cleveland's all red uniforms in the 1970s. And they set the union back even further.

Thomas tried to spin the story his way with an apology that unfortunately failed because it did not include the crucial phrase, "I am a moron." Sheffield, meanwhile, kept up his trade demands and is threatening to really blast the Dodgers if they don't trade him. Gee thanks, Gary. Could you make it any more difficult for us to swing a trade?

For now, the two are baseball's new poster kids for greed, taking over from an exhausted A-Rod. But these things pass. In time, Thomas and friends will be forgotten and some new oafs will be public enemy No. 1 and 1-A. Players have been complaining about their contracts since they were in flannel uniforms and they will still be doing so when Ken Griffey's grandkids are in the Hall of Fame.

The fortunate thing for fans is that within a couple weeks, spring training will end, the season will begin and everyone can start thinking about the game again.

Jim Caple of Seattle Post-Intelligencer is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.