As Cynthia Ryals peddled beer and soft drinks at a Turner Field concession stand, she wondered if anyone in baseball’s latest labor crisis cared about her plight.

Hey, guys Ryals and thousands like her will be put out of work, too.

Fans in Veterans Stadium vent. The fans let their feelings be known Friday in Philadelphia.

“I think everybody’s being silly,” she said Friday. “They all make millions. We’ll be the ones who’ll be hurt. Millions and billions. How much money do they want?”

Around the country, baseball fans braced for the possibility of the sport’s ninth work stoppage since 1972.

Even President Bush, former owner of the Texas Rangers, weighed in on the subject. He chastised both sides, urging them to work out their differences or risk the wrath of a “furious” fan base including himself.

“I’d be right there with him,” Braves pitcher Tom Glavine said before a game against the Colorado Rockies.

The players’ union set an Aug. 30 strike date Friday, hoping to spur negotiations on a new labor agreement. The talks stalled in recent days over terms that mean little to the average fan: luxury tax, revenue sharing, a worldwide draft.

“It’s difficult, because it always seems like the players are the ones being greedy,” Florida catcher Charles Johnson said. “My family, my uncles and cousins, they don’t understand ‘I make $30,000 a year. You make $30,000 a day.’ But we just want to keep the union strong.”

Randy Smith, a 48-year-old ironworker at Disneyland, came to Anaheim’s Edison Field with his girlfriend to buy tickets for an upcoming Angels game.

“She’s been telling me she’d like to go to a ballgame, and I’m afraid there might not be any ball in a couple of weeks,” he said.

Smith blamed the players for bringing baseball to the brink of its ninth work stoppage since 1972.

“What are they striking about? What do they want?” he asked. “I see in the sports section that they’re calling it a ‘labor dispute.’ They don’t do any labor. If they want to see labor, then follow me around for a day.”

As a union member, though, Smith can sympathize with the players’ position.

“The players have stuck together and they don’t want to give anything back,” he said.

Ed Reinig also was standing in line at the Edison Field box office.

“I’ve been an Angels fan since they’ve been here,” he said. “But I’ll tell you what: If they strike, this is the last time I’ll pay to see a ballgame.”

While both sides are trying to curry public support during the negotiations, Detroit Tigers pitcher Jose Lima said the players are in a no-win situation.

“I know people think it’s our fault. They keep blaming us,” he said. “They think we’re greedy by going on strike.”

Lima is even worried that a deranged fan could take out his frustration on the players in the days leading up to the strike.

“I’m looking out for my own safety here,” he said. “Somebody is going to come and do something to us because they think we go on strike on purpose. It’s scary.”

The players make an average salary of $2.3 million and have known for months that a strike was possible. Even so, Lima said a walkout would have a devastating financial impact on some players.

“It’s going to be tough on a lot of guys: first-year guys, guys who have families,” he said. “They need the money. They need to play baseball. That’s all they know how to do.”

The financial ramifications would be even more devastating for someone such as Messay Mitke, a wheelchair-bound college student who staffs a concession stand at Turner Field.

“I’m a full-time student, so this is the only job that works with my schedule,” Mitke said.

Several players expressed optimism that a strike will be avoided this time. They said the tenor of negotiations has been less contentious than it was in the days leading up to the last work stoppage in 1994-95.

“Sooner of later, history has to be broken,” said Glavine, a union leader. “Maybe I’m naive, but I’m hopeful of getting something done. I don’t think we’re as far apart as some people think.”