Alan Goldfarb writes: Ah, human nature.

From where I sit — from inside the press box — I can tell you that there’s a schism between the ballplayers and the media. The reasons are varied. Players look down at the press because of some of the negative things written and said about them. Players look askance at overweight and undersized members of the media; and because most of them never played the game. And perhaps the most poignant reason of all: Players make a truckload more money than do the writers and broadcasters. From where I sit — from inside the press box — I can tell you that there’s a schism between the ballplayers and the media. The reasons are varied. Players look down at the press because of some of the negative things written and said about them. Players look askance at overweight and undersized members of the media; and because most of them never played the game. And perhaps the most poignant reason of all: Players make a truckload more money than do the writers and broadcasters.

Conversely, the press corps doesn’t think much of the players because they’ve observed that most of them seem to live under a rock.

Item: one-third of black players in a survey didn’t know who Jackie Robinson was.

Item: The A’s Eric Chavez doesn’t know who Paul McCartney is.

Secondly, they’ve noticed that many of the players are simply surly, boorish and don’t have much to say, anyway.

Tertiary and most importantly, they make truckloads less money than do the players.

But in the end, no one, save the media, cares about what goes on between the press and the players, because that’s our dirty little secret.

Now comes a growing schism among the ballplayers themselves. The mitigating factor — the one held in common by the press/player divide?

You guessed it. M-O-N-E-Y.

To wit: In last Thursday’s game in Oakland between the Oakland A’s and the Texas Rangers, Cory Lidle — the little-known fourth starter for Oakland — plunked baseball’s most visible player, and sport’s richest athlete — Alex Rodriguez.

Not only did Lidle hit the storied A-Rod, he got him twice, and uncannily, both times in the same place — the left triceps.

What occurred after the second incident, was nothing compared to what was said inside both clubhouses after the game.

When A-Rod got hit the second time, he raised his bat in a threatening gesture toward the A’s pitcher. But because the Rangers’ shortstop seems to be a more thoughtful type, who most likely wouldn’t use a bat as a weapon, reason prevailed and he immediately withdrew said bat-cum-weapon, and pulled it back down. Seemingly, it diffused the situation for the nonce.

But as these things are wont to do, words were exchanged between the combatants, both benches emptied, and after a few moments of jawing and gesticulating, cooler heads will out.

Until the media reached the clubhouse, that is, and all hell broke loose.

Immediately, the writers and microphone-types asked Lidle about the incident.

Lidle, who would most likely play the heavy in a character role, to A-Rod’s matinee idol looks, astonishingly, had no compunctions about sharing his thoughts.

“The guy makes a ton of money — and he doesn’t respect the game,” the pitcher, who makes exactly 10 percent of Rodriquez’ $25 million a year, responded in an unusually candid manner.

Furthermore, said Lidle, just because Alex Rodriguez — as handsome as Lidle is not — makes all that dough, “doesn’t mean he’s smart.”

The fact that Lidle got into the postseason last year and Rodriguez did not — an occurrence that will most likely duplicate itself this season — means something only to Lidle, his teammates and to his family.

Even though Lidle will happily pocket the extra cash, which will most likely go toward the purchase of an SUV for his wife, those number of shekels would to A-Rod, be worth no more than the amount of tips he doles out a year.

Nevertheless, while Lidle cherishes his playoff — and perhaps his World Series ring — A-Rod will probably go to the safety deposit box on any given day of the week and pull out a hunk of jewelry, each marked, “Monday,” “Tuesday,” and … well, you get the idea.

But it all won’t amount to a hill of frijoles to Lidle, unless he comes close to making what A-Rod makes.

And that my friends, will never happen. Not in Lidle’s dreams, and not in all of our lifetimes.

Oh sure, Cory will have the pride of getting into the playoffs the last two seasons and perhaps winning the whole enchilada. Alex? He’ll be at home counting his frijoles hill.

Baseball it’s said, reads like a microcosm of life. And here we have the perfect cosm. As baseball’s upper echelon players continue to make scads and more scads of money, the middle class will disappear, which in turn, will leave the underclass bereft of scads.

That’s why we’ll continue to hear more and more about incidents such as the Lidle/A-Rod Dustup. You may have the big bucks, bucko, and you might be as good looking as all get out, but buckaroo, I think you should sit over on the other side of the dugout, and on that side of the clubhouse on your recliner, while I give one for the team.

Which side is more virtuous? Which side will you choose?