Dustin Johnson has what it takes to win more majors. In golf, though, there are no guarantees.

“I want to get to number three first,” he said. “But I do. I dream of winning a lot of majors. Just hadn’t quite happened yet. Hopefully, this one will help, though, give me a little spring.”

There is so much evidence that Johnson, even at 36, could be ready to separate himself. As Rory McIlroy, winner of four majors himself, said Sunday, “He’s been knocking on the door so long.” In his past 11 majors, he has three runner-up finishes, a third, two more top-10s — and Sunday’s win. Then there’s his record over his past seven tournaments of any kind: tied for second, first, second, first, tied for sixth, tied for second — and Sunday’s win.

There is a consistency there that belies his perceived approach. McIlroy, who plays regularly with Johnson near their Jupiter, Fla., homes, played the first two rounds at Augusta National with Johnson. He described his approach as: “See ball, hit ball. See putt, hole putt. Go to the next.”

“He makes the game so simple,” McIlroy said, “or makes it look so simple at times.”

But what we’re learning now is there’s a complexity to Johnson that we haven’t, to this point, allowed.

“He’s smarter than you think,” McIlroy said Sunday.

“He’s switched on,” McIlroy said, “more so than he lets on, more so than everyone in the media thinks. I’ll just put it that way.”

Okay, let’s not issue Johnson a Mensa card just because he won the Masters. But it’s clear we underestimate him because of his demeanor and because what he puts forth to the public has all the flavor of cream of wheat — without brown sugar, with no fruit, with the milk on the side.

“His golf IQ is off the charts,” said Claude Harmon III, his coach.

Sunday’s round offers evidence, and the lessons Johnson taught us in the Masters could be applied to majors to follow. On the par-5 13th — attackable for a player of Johnson’s prodigious length — he took 3-wood off the tee, then laid up with a 6-iron. The result: birdie. At the par-5 15th — also reachable in two — Johnson’s tee shot drifted left, so he was slightly blocked out by some trees. His response: calmly lay up with a low 8-iron to the right. The result: another birdie.

This is an advancement of thinking, of approach, of processing information. Johnson’s previous major came in 2016, at the U.S. Open at Oakmont. At that point, he was still a bomber with a driver — and not much else.

“When he won at Oakmont, he was known for his length,” Harmon said. “That was it. Now, I think he is as complete a golfer as there is in the modern game.”

So, then, more majors, right?

“I feel really good about everything that I’m doing,” Johnson said. “I feel really confident in the golf game.”

There’s no reason to doubt him. But there is plenty of evidence that suggests one major — or even two — doesn’t just beget another.

Think of the talent represented by the names Adam Scott, Justin Rose, Jason Day, Henrik Stenson, Sergio Garcia, Justin Thomas, Patrick Reed, Morikawa and DeChambeau. That’s nine golfers, all major champions since 2013. Scott, Rose and Day have been ranked No. 1 in the world. None of the nine are slouches or flukes. Yet their total majors won: nine. Or one apiece.

Think, too, of some of the best players of the past few generations. Greg Norman just about defined his era — and won two majors. Martin Kaymer of Germany reached No. 1 in the world, beat Johnson at the 2010 PGA Championship, won the 2014 U.S. Open at Pinehurst — and didn’t so much as qualify for this year’s Masters. Fred Couples, Tom Kite, Paul Azinger, Tom Lehman, Justin Leonard, Davis Love III, David Duval, Jim Furyk. Each was a potential favorite in every major he started over a period of years. Each won just a single major.

This is not a slight against any of them. What it is: a testament to how difficult winning even one can be. Now, Morikawa is just 23, and DeChambeau and Thomas are just 27. There could be plenty more to come. Yet none is guaranteed anything. Not every Masters is Tiger Woods in 1997 — with more trophies obviously to follow. The players who have won at least three majors this century: Woods, Phil Mickelson, McIlroy, Padraig Harrington, Jordan Spieth and Brooks Koepka. McIlroy, for instance, is 31, in his prime, assumed to win more. The most recent of his four majors: six years ago at the PGA.

“Obviously, the first major’s the hardest,” Johnson said. “But then I would say the second one is just as hard. They are all difficult to win. You know, it’s just hard to get it done in a major for some reason.”

Which brings us back to what Johnson has learned from his experiences, and what we have learned from his approach. DeChambeau was the buzzy player headed into this Masters, not only because of his six-shot victory at the U.S. Open but because of his brazen attempt to change the sport by using pure distance to overpower courses.

The field, including Johnson, would be foolish not to take note. So as DeChambeau was boasting about using a 48-inch driver — the maximum allowed by the rules, a decision he held back on at Augusta — Johnson tinkered with a 47-inch model. Could he get more distance? Yes. Would he be better because of it? No.

“It’s been very interesting in that all this talk about, ‘We’re going to have to change the ball,’ and Bryson rewriting golf, D.J. did exactly what Tiger did back in the day: ‘Let me hit a bunch of fairways; I’m already as long as everybody else,’ ” Harmon said. “If you look at the run Tiger was on in 2000, 2001 [when he won four straight majors], he wasn’t trying to hit it past everybody. D.J.’s certainly not trying to hit it past people. He is trying to give himself as many chances.”

His next chance in a major, if the virus allows, will be at a back-to-back Masters in April. If that’s how it works out, he will arrive here as a figure not only more respected because of what he did this past weekend but more understood. Not just in his game but in what he wants out of it.

“He doesn’t throw clubs or curse at me or do any of that stuff, and that’s just because he’s a class act,” Johnson’s brother and longtime caddie, Austin, said. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. The guy cares more than anybody. I just think because we’re Southern guys, laid-back and talk a little slow, everybody thinks we don’t really care.”

He has the game. He has the drive. He now has some evidence that he can close a major when given the opportunity. And what the history of the sport shows us is that guarantees Johnson absolutely nothing. Winning majors is hard. Each victory should be appreciated.