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Balanced Johnson departs Augusta bedecked in green

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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.”

Ronald Montesano writes for GolfWRX.com from western New York. He dabbles in coaching golf and teaching Spanish, in addition to scribbling columns on all aspects of golf, from apparel to architecture, from equipment to travel. Follow Ronald on Twitter at @buffalogolfer.

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Opinion & Analysis

The 2 primary challenges golf equipment companies face

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As the editor-in-chief of this website and an observer of the GolfWRX forums and other online golf equipment discourse for over a decade, I’m pretty well attuned to the grunts and grumbles of a significant portion of the golf equipment purchasing spectrum. And before you accuse me of lording above all in some digital ivory tower, I’d like to offer that I worked at golf courses (public and private) for years prior to picking up my pen, so I’m well-versed in the non-degenerate golf equipment consumers out there. I touched (green)grass (retail)!

Complaints about the ills of and related to the OEMs usually follow some version of: Product cycles are too short for real innovation, tour equipment isn’t the same as retail (which is largely not true, by the way), too much is invested in marketing and not enough in R&D, top staffer X hasn’t even put the new driver in play, so it’s obviously not superior to the previous generation, prices are too high, and on and on.

Without digging into the merits of any of these claims, which I believe are mostly red herrings, I’d like to bring into view of our rangefinder what I believe to be the two primary difficulties golf equipment companies face.

One: As Terry Koehler, back when he was the CEO of Ben Hogan, told me at the time of the Ft Worth irons launch, if you can’t regularly hit the golf ball in a coin-sized area in the middle of the face, there’s not a ton that iron technology can do for you. Now, this is less true now with respect to irons than when he said it, and is less and less true by degrees as the clubs get larger (utilities, fairways, hybrids, drivers), but there remains a great deal of golf equipment truth in that statement. Think about it — which is to say, in TL;DR fashion, get lessons from a qualified instructor who will teach you about the fundamentals of repeatable impact and how the golf swing works, not just offer band-aid fixes. If you can’t repeatably deliver the golf club to the golf ball in something resembling the manner it was designed for, how can you expect to be getting the most out of the club — put another way, the maximum value from your investment?

Similarly, game improvement equipment can only improve your game if you game it. In other words, get fit for the clubs you ought to be playing rather than filling the bag with the ones you wish you could hit or used to be able to hit. Of course, don’t do this if you don’t care about performance and just want to hit a forged blade while playing off an 18 handicap. That’s absolutely fine. There were plenty of members in clubs back in the day playing Hogan Apex or Mizuno MP-32 irons who had no business doing so from a ballstriking standpoint, but they enjoyed their look, feel, and complementary qualities to their Gatsby hats and cashmere sweaters. Do what brings you a measure of joy in this maddening game.

Now, the second issue. This is not a plea for non-conforming equipment; rather, it is a statement of fact. USGA/R&A limits on every facet of golf equipment are detrimental to golf equipment manufacturers. Sure, you know this, but do you think about it as it applies to almost every element of equipment? A 500cc driver would be inherently more forgiving than a 460cc, as one with a COR measurement in excess of 0.83. 50-inch shafts. Box grooves. And on and on.

Would fewer regulations be objectively bad for the game? Would this erode its soul? Fortunately, that’s beside the point of this exercise, which is merely to point out the facts. The fact, in this case, is that equipment restrictions and regulations are the slaughterbench of an abundance of innovation in the golf equipment space. Is this for the best? Well, now I’ve asked the question twice and might as well give a partial response, I guess my answer to that would be, “It depends on what type of golf you’re playing and who you’re playing it with.”

For my part, I don’t mind embarrassing myself with vintage blades and persimmons chasing after the quasi-spiritual elevation of a well-struck shot, but that’s just me. Plenty of folks don’t give a damn if their grooves are conforming. Plenty of folks think the folks in Liberty Corner ought to add a prison to the museum for such offences. And those are just a few of the considerations for the amateur game — which doesn’t get inside the gallery ropes of the pro game…

Different strokes in the game of golf, in my humble opinion.

Anyway, I believe equipment company engineers are genuinely trying to build better equipment year over year. The marketing departments are trying to find ways to make this equipment appeal to the broadest segment of the golf market possible. All of this against (1) the backdrop of — at least for now — firm product cycles. And golfers who, with their ~15 average handicap (men), for the most part, are not striping the golf ball like Tiger in his prime and seem to have less and less time year over year to practice and improve. (2) Regulations that massively restrict what they’re able to do…

That’s the landscape as I see it and the real headwinds for golf equipment companies. No doubt, there’s more I haven’t considered, but I think the previous is a better — and better faith — point of departure when formulating any serious commentary on the golf equipment world than some of the more cynical and conspiratorial takes I hear.

Agree? Disagree? Think I’m worthy of an Adam Hadwin-esque security guard tackle? Let me know in the comments.

@golfoncbs The infamous Adam Hadwin tackle ? #golf #fyp #canada #pgatour #adamhadwin ? Ghibli-style nostalgic waltz – MaSssuguMusic

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Podcasts

Fore Love of Golf: Introducing a new club concept

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Episode #16 brings us Cliff McKinney. Cliff is the founder of Old Charlie Golf Club, a new club, and concept, to be built in the Florida panhandle. The model is quite interesting and aims to make great, private golf more affordable. We hope you enjoy the show!

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Opinion & Analysis

On Scottie Scheffler wondering ‘What’s the point of winning?’

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Last week, I came across a reel from BBC Sport on Instagram featuring Scottie Scheffler speaking to the media ahead of The Open at Royal Portrush. In it, he shared that he often wonders what the point is of wanting to win tournaments so badly — especially when he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t lead to a truly fulfilling life.

 

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“Is it great to be able to win tournaments and to accomplish the things I have in the game of golf? Yeah, it brings tears to my eyes just to think about it because I’ve literally worked my entire life to be good at this sport,” Scheffler said. “To have that kind of sense of accomplishment, I think, is a pretty cool feeling. To get to live out your dreams is very special, but at the end of the day, I’m not out here to inspire the next generation of golfers. I’m not out here to inspire someone to be the best player in the world, because what’s the point?”

Ironically — or perhaps perfectly — he went on to win the claret jug.

That question — what’s the point of winning? — cuts straight to the heart of the human journey.

As someone who’s spent over two decades in the trenches of professional golf, and in deep study of the mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of the game, I see Scottie’s inner conflict as a sign of soul evolution in motion.

I came to golf late. I wasn’t a junior standout or college All-American. At 27, I left a steady corporate job to see if I could be on the PGA Tour starting as a 14-handicap, average-length hitter. Over the years, my journey has been defined less by trophies and more by the relentless effort to navigate the deeply inequitable and gated system of professional golf — an effort that ultimately turned inward and helped me evolve as both a golfer and a person.

One perspective that helped me make sense of this inner dissonance around competition and our culture’s tendency to overvalue winning is the idea of soul evolution.

The University of Virginia’s Division of Perceptual Studies has done extensive research on reincarnation, and Netflix’s Surviving Death (Episode 6) explores the topic, too. Whether you take it literally or metaphorically, the idea that we’re on a long arc of growth — from beginner to sage elder — offers a profound perspective.

If you accept the premise literally, then terms like “young soul” and “old soul” start to hold meaning. However, even if we set the word “soul” aside, it’s easy to see that different levels of life experience produce different worldviews.

Newer souls — or people in earlier stages of their development — may be curious and kind but still lack discernment or depth. There is a naivety, and they don’t yet question as deeply, tending to see things in black and white, partly because certainty feels safer than confronting the unknown.

As we gain more experience, we begin to experiment. We test limits. We chase extreme external goals — sometimes at the expense of health, relationships, or inner peace — still operating from hunger, ambition, and the fragility of the ego.

It’s a necessary stage, but often a turbulent and unfulfilling one.

David Duval fell off the map after reaching World No. 1. Bubba Watson had his own “Is this it?” moment with his caddie, Ted Scott, after winning the Masters.

In Aaron Rodgers: Enigma, reflecting on his 2011 Super Bowl win, Rodgers said:

“Now I’ve accomplished the only thing that I really, really wanted to do in my life. Now what? I was like, ‘Did I aim at the wrong thing? Did I spend too much time thinking about stuff that ultimately doesn’t give you true happiness?’”

Jim Carrey once said, “I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”

Eventually, though, something shifts.

We begin to see in shades of gray. Winning, dominating, accumulating—these pursuits lose their shine. The rewards feel more fleeting. Living in a constant state of fight-or-flight makes us feel alive, yes, but not happy and joyful.

Compassion begins to replace ambition. Love, presence, and gratitude become more fulfilling than status, profits, or trophies. We crave balance over burnout. Collaboration over competition. Meaning over metrics.

Interestingly, if we zoom out, we can apply this same model to nations and cultures. Countries, like people, have a collective “soul stage” made up of the individuals within them.

Take the United States, for example. I’d place it as a mid-level soul: highly competitive and deeply driven, but still learning emotional maturity. Still uncomfortable with nuance. Still believing that more is always better. Despite its global wins, the U.S. currently ranks just 23rd in happiness (as of 2025). You might liken it to a gifted teenager—bold, eager, and ambitious, but angsty and still figuring out how to live well and in balance. As much as a parent wants to protect their child, sometimes the child has to make their own mistakes to truly grow.

So when Scottie Scheffler wonders what the point of winning is, I don’t see someone losing strength.

I see someone evolving.

He’s beginning to look beyond the leaderboard. Beyond metrics of success that carry a lower vibration. And yet, in a poetic twist, Scheffler did go on to win The Open. But that only reinforces the point: even at the pinnacle, the question remains. And if more of us in the golf and sports world — and in U.S. culture at large — started asking similar questions, we might discover that the more meaningful trophy isn’t about accumulating or beating others at all costs.

It’s about awakening and evolving to something more than winning could ever promise.

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