Exactly. That's why there's talk the Yankees might try to sign Damon when he becomes a free agent this off-season. Would he go clean-cut for Furious George?
"Absolutely," Damon says. "I'd definitely abide by his rules."
You know the stylist will be named Delilah.
THE ARM. "He throws like a girl," says Millar. Some experts think he has the worst arm among major league centerfielders.
One time, Boston leftfielder Manny Ramirez dived to cut off a Damon throw so he could wing it himself--the rare 8-7-4-2 relay.
O.K., so nobody's perfect.
THE FEET. If you are driving in Boston, you may be surprised to see Johnny Damon, on foot, in your rearview mirror, and gaining. Damon does it not to catch the cars but to work on his speed. If he were a dog, he'd be a hairier, of course.
"I think I can run about 25 miles per hour, top speed," he says. "Sometimes I actually pass cars on Boylston [Street]." And their reaction? "They realize they're in the company of either a great athlete, or a criminal running from something."
Born to a Thai mother and a Vietnam-vet sergeant, he's always been a speed racer, challenging himself to run home through a one-mile wood in Tennessee that was fraught with wild boars. "They're mean little f-----s," he says. "You better outrun 'em."
THE MOUTH. As a kid Damon stuttered something awful. That was one reason he took to sports: no talking necessary.