On the surface of things, losing a player like Jason Giambi might be viewed as a setback for your standard major-league franchise. Come to think of it, it was viewed as a huge setback for the A's, whose owners botched the Giambi negotiations so completely two springs ago that his ultimate departure for New York was merely the culmination of a summer-long breakup in Oakland.

But cresting near the halfway point here in 2002, the A's are having a season not so unlike the one they had with Giambi in 2001: lame start, blistering correction, competitive overall record. And because the Mariners are no longer operating in a statistical Neverland -- no longer, that is, on a 116-victory pace -- the AL West is shaping up as the kind of division race that the Jason-led Athletics weren't even able to contemplate last summer.

The A's are somewhere right now that they couldn't have been a year ago, not even with the mighty Giambi at the bat. And if you decided to ignore the raw numbers for a moment in favor of something more ethereal, you might be tempted to conclude that it wasn't until the Oakland clubhouse was rid of every last vestige of its Giambination that the recovery truly began.

Jason Giambi was gone last winter. For brother Jeremy, it took a while longer. Not until May 22, with Oakland having lost 14 of 18 games to fall into a last-place tie with Texas, was Jason's brother finally dealt away from an Oakland franchise for which he unwittingly symbolized the bad old days.

The transaction was simple enough, Giambi going to Philadelphia in exchange for John Mabry. But there's actually a fair argument to be made that the trade was freighted with meaning. Unfair as it sounds, Jeremy Giambi's presence in the clubhouse could be seen as serving as a sort of unofficial reminder that Jason's leadership, along with his MVP numbers, no longer lived there.

Too, Jeremy was stuck as the lasting image of the 2001 playoffs for Oakland -- the guy who didn't slide. It was his decision to run across home plate in the seventh inning of Game 3 that cost the A's their only scoring opportunity in an eventual 1-0 loss to the Yankees. You remember the play: Derek Jeter made that impossible backhand relay toss; Giambi tried to tippy-toe rather than hit the deck, and was tagged out. The A's never recovered from the defeat, blowing a 2-0 series lead and eventually succumbing in five games.

Jeremy Giambi stuck around to answer virtually every question after that, a stand-up performance in a moment of professional devastation, and he came to Oakland's camp this spring ready to start fresh. Whatever his limitations as a player, attitude never appeared to be one of them. But it's tough living with a ghost in the clubhouse -- and in this regard, at least, the numbers lend a spooky (if logically rickety) kind of support to the argument.

The A's, finishing a desultory May at 25-28 and nine games behind the Mariners, entered their contest in Seattle on Tuesday night at 44-31, two games out of first. That's a 19-3 record in June, a period that began barely a week after the final remnants of the Giambi era had been swept out of the clubhouse.

Coincidence? Sure, you can take that position. Giambi's trade coincided roughly with Oakland's holy triumvirate of pitchers -- Tim Hudson, Mark Mulder and Barry Zito -- beginning to relocate the grooves that carried them through so much of 2001. The A's have turned it on at the same time that key hitter Jermaine Dye is getting back to his pre-injury self.

There were also practical consequences to the Giambi deal: His trade opened a spot in the outfield for Adam Piatt, a solid defensive upgrade, and allowed David Justice (when healthy) to assume the designated hitter role on a consistent basis. Mabry, playing the notes he's given, is batting .326.

Moreover, the truth is that, if the Mariners of 2002 were the same cold-blooded killer as the Mariners of '01, even this nice Oakland turnaround would be relegated to sidebar status -- interesting, but not necessarily of any ultimate importance.

Instead, the Mariners are merely very good, not unapproachable. The A's are the hottest team in baseball, 16-1 and winners of eight straight before Tuesday. That last-place tie with the Rangers feels like a year ago, not less than a month.

And, odd as it may sound, there is something to be said for the salutary effect of rinsing out the old colors completely. Jason Giambi is officially long gone, now. He went first, and it felt devastating. By the time his brother followed, fair or not, it felt like the thing that absolutely had to be done.

And there you go again, insisting that emotion still has a place in sport.

Mark Kreidler of the Sacramento Bee is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.