Limbo Time

The deal was done. At least Jason Giambi thought so. His agent, Arn Tellem, thought so. Even the brain trust of the Oakland A's thought so. Finally, after months of When? and How much? and For how long?, Giambi was sure that he would be an Athletic for the rest of his career. This was last March, with three days left in spring training, when Tellem called Giambi with the good news: a new deal, six years, $91 million. "The A's will probably want to have the press conference pretty soon," Tellem told his client, the American League MVP after a 2000 season in which he hit .333, with 43 homers and 137 RBIs. "So be ready."

Giambi was. He had been part of the Oakland organization since June 1992, when the club used a second-round draft pick to select the powerful Long Beach State third baseman. At the press conference, he would, of course, thank his mom, Jeanne; his dad, John; and Billy Beane, general manager of the A's and Giambi's good friend. Jason would acknowledge his younger brother and teammate, Jeremy. He would probably talk about loyalty—about starting your career in one place and finishing it there too and about what it meant to him to be part of this team....

Being a member of the A's last week meant watching the clock 24/7. It meant wondering whether a three-game losing streak would be an excuse for management to unload future high-salary players before the July 31 (4 p.m., EDT) trade deadline. Wondering whether two potential free agents at season's end—veterans Johnny Damon, the centerfielder, and Jason Isringhausen, the closer—would be hanging out in the clubhouse in August and September, cracking jokes and gulping coffee. Wondering if the heart and soul and face of your franchise, the 30-year-old first baseman Giambi, another potential free agent after those spring contract talks collapsed, would be shipped to New York or Los Angeles or Boston, or some other wealthy outpost. But then last weekend Oakland won two of three games from the Kansas City Royals in a series that meant everything, and not only because the A's, 56-49 through Monday, were 4� games behind the Boston Red Sox, the leader in the crowded American League wild-card race. When SI went to press on Monday, Giambi, Damon and Isringhausen were still with Oakland, but, as Beane admitted, there were no guarantees.

It was a bizarre state of affairs for the defending American League West champions, who started the season 2-10 and as recently as July 6 had a sub-.500 record. Had Oakland continued on its early path, there would be no debate concerning Giambi, Damon and Isringhausen: Bad, financially strapped teams with only $65 million in revenues (fifth lowest in baseball last year) do not hold on to expensive veterans, especially ones who plan on exploring free agency in the off-season.

However, as the A's won 18 of their first 26 games in July, it became clear that tough personnel decisions would have to be made. From the All-Star break through Sunday, Oakland led the league in runs per game (6.2), and its .357 on-base percentage was second in the AL to the New York Yankees' .358. Moreover, its staff had the third-best ERA, 3.62. "You want to force management to keep your team together," says lefthander Barry Zito, who pitched 6? innings of one-hit ball in Oakland's 6-4 victory on Sunday. "You do that by playing well."

Still, every day brought trade rumors, the kind that thrive when your paychecks come out of a $34 million payroll, second lowest in the majors (to the Minnesota Twins' $24 million), and your team plays in a dump like the Network Associates Coliseum while dreaming of a swanky new complex 30 miles down the road in Santa Clara. Even when the A's plucked power-hitting rightfielder Jermaine Dye from the Royals in a three-team swap mat sent three Oakland minor leaguers—lefthander Todd Belitz, outfielder Mario Encarnacion and second baseman Jose Ortiz—to the Colorado Rockies, the reaction in Oakland's clubhouse was not so much a celebratory Ya-hoo, but a guarded, Uh...ya-hoo?

Sure, the 27-year-old Dye was a 2000 All-Star who seemed the perfect right-handed bat to place in the middle of a lefty-dominated lineup. But was Dye the man to bat cleanup and protect Jason Giambi in the lineup, or was he the man—in the event that Giambi left sooner or later—to replace him? Surely every Oakland player, including Giambi and Dye, asked himself that question. "I play devil's advocate like the next guy," said Giambi last Friday. "I'd [be lying] if I said that didn't cross my mind."

Beane had much on his mind, too. Last Saturday night, minutes after Oakland's sloppy, uninspired 9-3 loss to the Royals, he sat on a couch in a team office, furious. As Beane stewed, reporter number 12,471 began peppering him with questions about economics and small markets: Isn't it inevitable that with Giambi, Damon and Isringhausen soon eligible to be free agents, someone will be traded before season's end? Don't the A's, regardless of the wild-card standings, have to deal one or two of those players now"?

"I'm damned if I do, and I'm damned if I don't," said Beane. "If I trade these guys, I'm pulling the plug. If I don't trade these guys, there's a chance they leave and I get nothing for them. To me, the most important thing in this job is to reach the postseason. Right now, we're in a position to possibly do that."

Still fuming, Beane took a deep breath. His team had lost three of its last four games. "Look, I could trade guys every time they're within a year and a half of their contract's ending," he said, "and the team could suck the entire time I'm here, and I could use the excuse, 'Well, they're gonna be free agents, so I'd better trade 'em.' But what does that do? If you're close to the playoffs, why trade?"