Master of the Elements

Johnson is a Midwesterner via central casting: polite, humble, well-spoken and God-fearing. When he emerged for the green-jacket ceremony on the practice putting green, he thanked, in order, the greenkeepers, his caddie, his sponsors, his mother watching on TV back in Cedar Rapids ("Happy Easter, Mom"), his sister, his brother, his father, his three-month-old son (Will, who, Zach said, "would have been happy to see me even if I had shot 85 today"), his wife (Kim, "my rock") and Jesus Christ.

If he wasn't so gracious, Johnson could have also thanked Woods, who for the first time in his illustrious career coughed up a Sunday lead at a major, and Justin Rose, who birdied the 16th to move within one of the lead only to make a mess of 17 with a double bogey. A special shout-out could have gone to two-time U.S. Open champion Retief Goosen, who played the first eight holes in four under par to take the lead only to play the last 10 in one over. And let's not forget Rory Sabbatini, one of five men to hold the outright lead on Sunday; his charge was short-circuited by bogeys on 14 and 16.

Most of all, the 160-pound Johnson probably should have thanked the lords of Augusta for presenting a parched golf course that allowed his 265-yard drives to run out for precious extra yards and brick-hard greens that played into the hands of the short-game whiz. It was a polarizing setup, extolled by some players as the ultimate test and reviled by others for a numbing difficulty that drained much of the excitement that golf fans have come to expect from the Masters.

As befits one of the game's most intense grinders, Johnson kept his head down and ignored the debate. On Sunday evening he allowed only that he felt "very privileged, very honored" to have survived Augusta National — his 289 total matched the highest winning score in Masters history. Realizing a boyhood dream was, he said, "very surreal."

Johnson's victory may have been a surprise, but it is not a fluke. Since turning pro in 1998, after having earned a degree in business management from Drake, Johnson has become a Horatio Alger story in spikes. At the start of his career he didn't have the funds to cover his travel expenses, so members of his hometown Elmcrest Country Club formed a syndicate to sponsor him. Shares were sold for $500 apiece — Zach's father, Dave, a chiropractor, bought eight — and about $25,000 was raised to send Johnson on his way. (He would repay the investors with interest.)

In '99 Johnson cut his teeth on the micromini Prairie Golf Tour, winning twice and finishing third on the money list with $14,625. He moved up to the Hooters Tour and in 2001 ended the season with a three-tournament winning streak that propelled him to the top of the money list. In '03 he tore up the Nationwide Tour, winning twice and setting records for scoring average (68.97) and money ($494,882), thus earning his spot on the PGA Tour the following season.

In the ninth start of his rookie year he won the BellSouth Classic and, for staying so true to his small-town roots, received congratulatory notes from his first-, second-, third- and fourth-grade teachers. The past two seasons were marked by steady improvement and quiet success, but then Johnson emerged as a big-time player with his spirited debut at last September's Ryder Cup.

In a second-day four-ball match, he made seven birdies and almost single-handedly beat the team of Padraig Harrington and Henrik Stenson, both of whom reside in the top 10 of the World Ranking.

"He left the Ryder Cup a different player," says Mike Bender, Johnson's longtime swing coach. "He's never been afraid to win, and he's had a lot of practice at it on the mini-tours, but he found a different kind of game face over there. The kid has so much determination."