It is a late July morning, and Johnny Damon, pointing his Porsche toward the George Washington Bridge, is staring at the beautiful vista otherwise known as his life. The Yankees left fielder has been hitting over .300 in what’s been a renaissance season in the Bronx. Damon has, meanwhile, also discovered peace – in Alpine, where his wife, Michelle, is about to give birth to the couple’s second child.

Even through the static of a cellphone connection, there’s no mistaking Damon’s good-karma quotient. He is as innocent and trusting as a dove, calling to share his thoughts on the Yankees, his family and his philanthropies. In just over three hours, Damon will be standing in front of 55,000 Yankees fans, expected to take the Bombers a step closer to first place. But there’s no sense of pressure or even urgency in Damon’s voice.

He is, after all, nicknamed “Sunshine” by his Yankees teammates, and described by Jason Giambi as “one of the coolest guys in baseball.” The scouting report is remarkably spot-on: In an age where a professional athlete’s loyalty to a team stops at the ATM line, Damon has found a commitment in Pinstripes that extends beyond his contract.

Once considered the wildest of the rebel Red Sox, on the team that ended the 86-year world-championship Curse in Boston, Damon says his baseball universe has never been as complete as it is now, as a Yankee.

“I’ve been [playing baseball] for 14 years, and I’ve never taken the time to sit back and appreciate how lucky I am. The Yankees have allowed me to do that,” Damon says. “It’s the way they do things – the little things. The way they treat their players, the first-class way they travel, their commitment to winning. No other team operates like that, and I’ve come to respect it.”

Home stretch
At age 34, Damon isn’t old, but he’s inching towards retirement. Damon has one major contract left to sign after his current one expires after the 2009 season. He wants to remain a Yankee – which is to say, retire a Yankee – but that wish list is beyond his control.

For now, all Damon can do is contribute to the ’08 edition in the little ways that make him so unique. Damon’s game is a cocktail of slap-singles offenese with occasional gap-power, base-stealing ability and, most significantly, a winning pedigree honed from his years with the Red Sox and, before that, the Oakland A’s.

Derek Jeter says it all. “There are certain guys [around the League] who you know never panic – they just know how to win. I always felt that way about Johnny, even when I was playing against him.”

At this, Damon just smiles demurely. Instead of accepting the compliment, he merely redirects it.

“My job is to make the players around me better,” he explains. That’s hardly an exaggeration. When he arrived in New York in 2006, Damon, batting ahead of Jeter in the lineup, dramatically impacted the Yankee captain’s offensive production. As the No. 2 hitter, Jeter’s average rose to .343, the second-highest of his career and a 34-point increase from 2005.

What is it, exactly, that makes Damon so good? Maybe the explanation is as simple as Giambi insists: The man is just too cool to panic. Or maybe that explains why Damon was socially secure enough to turn his back on Manhattan’s East Side, where he resided for his first two years as a Yankee, instead choosing a quieter existence in Bergen this summer.

The Orlando native says the lifestyle in Alpine is closer to what his family enjoys during the off-season. “We can go for a walk outside, lay by the pool, jump on the tennis court anytime we want,” Damon says. “As much as we liked the city, I always felt like I couldn’t wait until 2:30 p.m. [his customary time to begin the trek to the Bronx]. Now,” he adds, “I wake up, and by 10 a.m., I’m outside playing with the kids. Honestly, I never had any idea New Jersey was this beautiful.”

Today, Damon considers himself an ordinary Alpine resident – an arrangement that’s honored by his neighbors. Whether he’s grocery shopping or just driving through town, Damon says, “People give me my space. It’s not like Boston. Here, people let you do your own thing.”

Out-of -the-park compassion
Mr. Cool does, of course, does have a passionate side – and it’s not just confined to the ball field. Damon is deeply committed to the Wounded Warriors Project, which assists severely injured servicemen and women who have returned home from Iraq and Afghanistan.

Damon does more than raise money and even awareness for the group. He visits hospitals, and spends time with the soldiers themselves. The son of a retired Army sergeant, Damon notes, “Getting involved was a no-brainer for me. We have so much to be thankful for in this country, and none of it would be possible without our troops sacrificing for us.”

Those who attended the annual Baseball Writers Dinner in Manhattan last February – a black-tie affair that drew more than 1,500 fans to the New York Hilton – remember Damon breaking down in tears as he tried to introduce U.S. Army Captain Tony Odierno of the 1st Cavalry Division, who lost his left arm in 2004 when he and the Humvee he was riding in were struck by a rocket propelled grenade.

“I just lost it,” Damon admits, as he tried on that day earlier this year to explain to the audience why this charity is so important.

“Those soldiers need to know that what they went through was worth the cause,” Damon explains. “You think about what’s happening over there … they’re braver than anyone in this room.”

Few professional athletes are willing to admit they’re embarrassed by the comforts of their millions – but Damon is one of them. “I do feel a little guilty,” he says, “playing baseball, having this nice life when those [soldiers] are out there sacrificing everything.”

So when it comes to giving, Damon does just that – he gives, and gives back. But don’t try quantifying his generosity in terms of money, or time. There’s more to Johnny Damon than that. His gift is called hope – or as the Yankees will tell you, it’s that little ray of Sunshine.