Even now, surrounded by baseball and the familiarity of the Yankee universe, Damon finds it hard to keep his composure when the conversational road leads to the soldiers who serve.
"Those soldiers need to know that what they went through was worth the cause," Damon said. "You think about what's happening over there ... they're braver than anyone in this room."
He was talking about Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez, Mariano Rivera the heart and soul of the Yankee empire. With no disrespect to any of them, Damon says any ballplayer who complains about his contract or how long and boring spring training is should visit Walter Reed hospital in Washington.

That's one of Damon's missions: recruiting as many Yankees as possible to visit the vets. Several tagged along with Damon last summer, but none seemed to have the same passion. When general manager Brian Cashman says, "We're all proud of Johnny for what he's doing," he's talking about a ballplayer with no agenda who cares enough to go through rehab exercises with amputees and speak honestly with them about their injuries.

"A lot of ballplayers who make hospital visits, they do it at arm's length. They can't handle the missing arms or legs or deformed skulls," said Steve Fortunato, a retired Air Force officer who now acts as a media consultant. "But Johnny, I've seen him talk to these vets like they're real people.

"He'll ask them, 'How did you lose your arm?' Or, 'Tell me about the day you got hit.' And then he'll go through rehab with them, pushing them as hard as they can (go). And these are people he's never met before."

At least not in the physical sense. But Damon feels bonded to the injured; he feels it's one of his destinies. He considers such volunteerism so important, a surge of "guilt" runs through him every time he gets paid on that four-year, $52 million contract.

"I do feel a little guilty, playing baseball, having this nice life when those guys are out there sacrificing everything," Damon said. "Look, I really like my country. I figure this is the very least I can do."

Of course, Damon realizes his first responsibility is to the Yankees. He also knows the soldiers respond to him, in part, because he's a major league star. Damon showed up in camp in superb shape this year and talks about a personal renaissance that just might take him past the expiration of his current contract in 2009.

Damon may not be quite the player the Yankees thought they were getting as a free agent after the 2005 season, but still figures he can help after hitting .296 in the second half of 2007. Damon is playing without pain - finally -and until further notice, projects as the everyday left fielder.

Anyone who knows Damon, however, realizes he's more than the sum of his parts. Jason Giambi says, "There's something about Johnny that touches everyone." It's a combination of old-school virtues, starting with honesty and sincerity you don't find very often in a major league clubhouse anymore.

After all, how many other ballplayers would start crying in front of an audience of hardened New York baseball fans? But that's Damon, who lit up a midwinter night in Manhattan without having to say a word.

Next week, Damon will shoot a public service announcement for the project, and intends to visit a Veterans Administration hospital in Tampa. He's urging ballplayers to listen not just to him but to their consciences, as well.

"It's not just about giving money, but giving your time, too," Damon said. "I want to spread this message to all parts of the country. Hopefully, there's a ballplayer who lives in North Dakota who'll go visit vets out there."

Damon smiled when he said, "Help these guys, even if it's just taking them out and playing golf with them. Show them we appreciate everything."