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LOS ANGELES – It seemed for a while that nothing could stop Dustin Johnson grinning wide at the US Open this week.
Until, of course, he found himself in the Los Angeles Country Club’s third tee box.
In Johnson’s defense, what just happened was charitably a disaster. On the second hole, which is par 4, DJ had just made a quadruple-bogey eight, the highest single-hole score of any player in the entire tournament. And as it turns out, even that description was less than selling.
Reliving the eight-shot nightmare with the same grim humour, Johnson said later, as a 20 handicap recapturing a 120-shooter. “Everything you could do wrong, you made a mistake.”
Johnson was no longer smiling as he walked from the second green to the third. He was angry.
He entered the LACC in a month high after winning LIV Tulsa. He played well in the weeks leading up to the tournament. Hammock felt comfortable. Confident of his body. And then he’d steamroll eight on the original scorecard, wiping out most of his hard work in an impressive Thursday 64.
Now, on the third tee, everyone threatened to break up. Another unlucky campaign and Johnson’s US Open may come crashing down. He said he knew that necessary to find the right track.
So he grabbed his driver and pulled the trigger.
More often than not, Dustin Johnson is already the winner this week in golf. And last week’s winner. And the winner next week. And the winner for a full weeks after that.
And why is DJ the winner? Because he got in the middle of the war between the PGA Tour and LIV Golf, and somehow, he beat them both.
As the golf world reacts to the complex news of a merger that will eventually put the PGA Tour and LIV Golf under the same leadership, Johnson’s name has hidden safely away from the limelight. But as he grins and laughs his way around the LACC at this US Open, it’s clear to just about everyone that his dream has come true: He can have his cake — LIV money — and eat it too, at the end of the familiar lanes of the PGA Tour.
Victory is an amazing thing. The warring parties had much more money than him, much more resources than him, and, in general, much more interest in battle.
On the other hand, Johnson entered the fray at the age of 38 with two children, a wife, and a general affinity for being wealthy. When the LIV bid came around, its decision didn’t focus so much on thorny geopolitics or the weight of its legacy — it focused primarily on a few commas and a bunch of zeros.
“We talked about this yesterday,” said Johnson, tongue firmly planted to cheek, at LIV’s first event in London. “I really regret my decision to come here. It’s so horrible. I sit there last night thinking about it, it really bothered me so much. Yeah, I just can’t get over it.”
When the PGA Tour/LIV battle entered the mainstream, it seemed like there would be at least a few people who came out on top of the entire engagement, whether it was by money, reputation, glory, or some combination of the three. I did no It appears, however, that Johnson will be one of them.
Until about a week ago, his life ban from the PGA Tour felt so stern, I felt LIV’s general incompetence… Johnson’s most likely path to the future seemed to be leading LIV until the league closed its doors or decided to shut its door. He’ll enjoy his new LIV money, but not the venerable retirement that a player of his overall quality and accomplishments enjoys on the PGA Tour. That was fine, he saw his old competition partners on the Tour when he saw them—whether it was around the lanes at a major tournament or in the neighborhood in Jupiter, Florida.
But Johnson always had an ace up his sleeve: his focus on leaving for LIV was so unique, his desires entirely self-propelled, that he was able to leave for Challengers without upsetting his old Tour colleagues. Faced with chance after chance to pick a team by beating his old league, Johnson remained staunchly neutral. His old friends noticed.
“It’s a very delicate situation and there are different dynamics,” Rory McIlroy said of his old friend Dustin at the Masters. “You know, it’s okay to hook up with Brooks and DJ and maybe not hook up with some of the other guys who went to LIV, right? It’s personal relationships, that’s how it goes.”
In May, at LIV Singapore, an Australian media outlet was erroneously quoted as saying he “didn’t care” what PGA Tour commissioner Jay Monahan thought of him. By morning, his agent, David Winkle, sent a statement to the media correcting the record—and offering a peek into his future.
“Dustin remains grateful for his time on the PGA Tour and has the utmost respect for Commissioner Monahan,” said Winkle.
When news of the merger that would reunite LIV and the PGA Tour came last week, Johnson remained silent, in part because LIV didn’t have an event, but mostly because the details said it all. Under the proposed agreement, LIV players would be extended a route back to the PGA Tour. Monahan, his old friend and commissioner, will be his boss again. In the end, Johnson’s return will be welcomed with open arms.
The simpler truth was even more stark: He took home and won, earning about $125 million through a signing bonus and another $45 million in earnings on the course with LIV. In the end, he had made that money And He found a way back to the comforts he had called home for the better part of two decades.
It seemed as light as air at the LACC, flowing across the practice range and out onto the golf course. Laugh with old friends on the range and laugh with family near the club. As he greeted his wife, Paulina, after the inaugural six-surface tour, his Airpod-white teeth peeked out from under a wide-tilted grin.
He said, “Not bad.” “Yes, not bad.”
Good mood quickly returned at the US Open.
At the start of the week, Johnson found himself blown away by the energy surrounding the tournament. Could the news of the merger have already happened? Assist Professional golfers reconnect?
“I felt like I always got on well with guys,” Johnson said. “Through it all and it’s clear now — sure, I can see that point of view, sure.”
On the course, it took just 15 minutes for Johnson’s second round in the LACC to freshen up in kind.
After quads in No. 2, he pumped his car down the center lane in No. 3. Ten minutes later, he rolled in a 15-foot birdie.
Exit the course with adventurer Till the end. Somehow, he was still six for the championship, just as he had started today, and entered the weekend with only a handful of strokes on the leaderboard.
“Sometimes it’s hard to stop it from falling apart,” he said. “Today, it wasn’t.”
As he walked away from the platform, he smiled again.
This time, the smile said it all.