Some (like me, for example) will say that there is a karmic balance in the universe. Not necessarily a force that binds all things together (that’d be Carl Spackler, or Obi-Wan Kenobi), but a way of evening certain things.

Until 2017, S-O-C-K-S was an infomercial aimed at teaching us Spanish. Then, overnight, it became the dragon slayer, the only thing capable of keeping Dustin Johnson from a Masters victory. After he withdrew from the 2017 Masters, Sergio Garcia stepped in with victory. Next came Patrick Reed, and then, Tiger Woods.

We feared that there was something Greg Norman-esque about DJ: built to win at Augusta, but victim of the fates and those pesky golf sprites. When the pandemic turned 2020 upside down, it may have rattled the pixies enough to put them off their game. With that wee opening, Johnson stepped in with as fine a Masters performance as we’ve seen. At last, the victory trophy, the green jacket, and the ownership of next year’s Champions Dinner menu were his.

Dustin Johnson will be remembered, in the beginning, for two characteristics: physique and shut face. At six-feet-four, he is not as tall as a golfer might be, but he was that tall before the other tall champions arrived. He was also a massive athlete, gifted in basketball and, let’s be honest, any other physical endeavor on which he might set his gaze. He also introduced the bowed-wrist and shut-clubface swing that ushered in the shallow your swing era of instruction. For him, each of these elements was innate. There was no anticipation of changing golf. When Johnson entered the world in 1984, by way of Columbia, South Carolina, he was who he would always be. The arrival of a brother a few years later gave him a foil and, eventually, the caddie with whom he would experience the vast majority of his tour successes.

This bit of backstory brings us to November of 2020. DJ reported to the National off a second-place tie in Houston. This fact, in retrospect, gives us a fair bit of evidence for why he played so well in Georgia. The Memorial Park course, courtesy of a Tom Doak-Mike Nuzzo redesign, played as much like an Alister MacKenzie course as Augusta does. What does that mean? Deception, visual distraction, playing away from trouble, and potential glory. Johnson did it for four days in Houston, and he came to Washington Rd. with confidence. When his driver, irons, and putter all arrived with him, the stage was set for a magnificent performance.

Much will be made of the play of the runners-up, should they earn a title of their own at the heralded brainchild of Bobby Jones. Cameron Smith played four rounds in the 60s—something that no one had achieved in all the playings of the Masters. Sungjae Im was equally impressive, matching Smith stroke for stroke, arriving at the same, 15-under par figure. Reaching the finishing line five strokes sooner was Johnson—a tournament scoring record (by two shots) among his laurels.

How he ascended the podium to the top shelf deserves our full attention.

Statistically, DJ was in orbit. He drove the ball into 80 percent of fairways on driving holes, nearly 10 percent better than the field. On position day, Saturday, he was a perfect 14 of 14 fairways hit. On Sunday, when the knuckles swell and the shoulders tense, Johnson found 10 of those suddenly-narrow lanes. Moving to greens in regulation, there was little surprise there. 83 percent of the time, he was putting for birdie or better. 60 of 72 putting surfaces offered him a chance to save a stroke or two, more than 15 percent better than his competitors. On the week, Johnson had two eagles and 20 birdies, and a pithy four bogies. From the sand, he was stellar. Off the tee, he was long. On the shortest of grass blades, he averaged 1.62 putts per hole, with a solitary three-putt coming in round two.

Let’s back up to the sand. Johnson wasn’t beached all week, to be clear. He was one for two in sandies, heading into Sunday. At the second hole, where he had twice made eagle, Johnson hit two successive shots that had us question whether he had the stuff to hold Saturday’s lead. A squirting hybrid from a downhill, second cut lie left him in the only impossible place on the hole: right of the greenside bunker, with a pin barely on the green. In other words, dead. His attempt at a floater came up weak, into the bunker. Understand, now, that said bunker has two segments, and DJ was in the shorter one. Not only did he have to stop the ball on a handkerchief, but he had to execute the shot over the other bunker tendril. Well, he did. He saved par, and marched off to victory.

For years, Johnson’s length earned first-sentence mention in summaries of his tournament prowess. As happened with Tiger, the competition caught up and surpassed. Here’s the thing: you cannot undo six-feet-four. You cannot change the physics of that swing. Johnson will always be plenty long. In 2015, he set to work on his wedge game, and won a U.S. Open in 2016. In 2019, he worked on his mental approach, steeling his demeanor and comportment to a greater extent than we had seen. This Masters victory is the culmination of that second phase of work.

Where to next? Many will surmise and predict, but we simply do not know. The form found this week may vanish come April. Or, with the pressure of winning abated, a second green jacket might follow on the elbows of the first. Leave the future to the ages. For this week, let’s revisit the Masters.Com storehouse of every shot anyone hit and marvel at the command of self, swing, and ball that Dustin Johnson exhibited for 72 consecutive holes.

When the snows fly in certain spots, these words will return to us

“It would mean a lot. What a great event; it’s the Masters, a major. I grew up right down the road. So this one would be very special to me.”