From the 60 he carded on Friday, when he bolted to 11 under through 11 holes, to a fifth eagle and six more birdies on Sunday, Johnson mowed down the field by pulling every one of his considerable skills out of his bag and putting them all together in a way that turned him into a golf machine. He never did manage to put a circle on his scorecard for holes 13 through 16, but little worry, since he absolutely owned the rest of it.

And this is why I love golf.

Watching Johnson elevate his game these past four days was pure cinematic genius, a maestro conducting a private symphony, a champion compelling not just because he was beating the field, but because he was besting the course. Golf’s unique magic is found in the way it allows individual greatness to unveil itself in all its dominating glory, the way it celebrates that greatness unbound and unrestricted by unwritten rules that can clutter the conversation in its athletic counterparts. The golf course has no feelings, leaving us free to root unabashedly for a sea of red numbers, no 3-and-0 count to respect or 13-goal lead to correct.

In 1997, it gave us Tiger beating Augusta National as much as he beat the rest of the Masters field. This week, it gave us Johnson, and he never gave TPC a chance.

He didn’t miss a green on Sunday. He missed only two fairways. In the words of final-round playing partner and runner-up Harris English, “On fire. He didn’t miss a shot.”

Listen, these are strange times for sports. As grateful as we are to be watching from our couches or tracking on our phones, the element of live attendance is not yet in our grasp. The absence of fans has certainly altered the way the games are played, as well as the way we experience them. The same is true for the players. While big-time golf made its most welcome return to greater Boston, a one-time annual Labor Day date replaced by this alternating chance to host the first round of the year-end playoffs, COVID-19 changed everything.

Rory McIlroy, sizzling prior to the pandemic, is shuffling now, and he knows part of the reason is the change in atmosphere.

“This is going to sound really bad, but I feel like the last few weeks, I’ve just been going through the motions,” he said. “I want to get an intensity and some sort of fire, but I just haven’t been able to. And look, that’s partly to do with the atmosphere and partly to do with how I’m playing. I’m not inspiring myself and I’m trying to get inspiration from outside sources to get something going.”

McIlroy had a kindred spirit in his playing partner across the final two rounds.

“It is different,” Tiger Woods agreed. “Obviously, the energy is not anywhere near the same. There isn’t the same amount of anxiety and pressure and people yelling at you and trying to grab your shirt, a hat off you. This is a very different world we live in.”

Imagine the attention the Woods-McIlroy pairing might have drawn in person. Guarantee they never could have enjoyed that picnic table lunch they had on Saturday. But for Woods, the absence of gallery roars and hordes of onlookers costs him as much as it frees him.

“Absolutely. Anyone who has played in front of thousands of people, it is very different,” he said. “Usually between 20,000 and 40,000 people screaming and yelling. That’s always been one of the things I’ve become accustomed to; the guys who played with me, who haven’t become accustomed to it. They have only experienced one round here and there; that’s been every round I’ve played for over two decades.

“That advantage, for me, and some of the other top players that have been out here for a while who have experienced it, trying to deal with all that noise and the movement, that experience is no longer there.”

Of course, none of it bothered Johnson, one of the game’s most fascinating figures. To call him enigmatic doesn’t quite fit, because that would seem to imply complicated, deep thoughts regarding the game. Johnson appears to suffer from anything but, consistently revealing an approach rooted in simplicity and consistency. The anti-Bryson DeChambeau.

And yet enigmatic does fit, too, at least in the way that approach plays itself out in results. Since golf returned after the three-month pandemic-induced layoff, Johnson has been both unstoppably dominant and head scratchingly awful. He won the Travelers and was the runner-up at the PGA. He shot back-to-back 80s at the Memorial and also missed the cut at his first event back, the Charles Schwab Challenge.

But he came to play in Boston.

“Obviously, a really good week,” he said, breaking into a rare post-round smile.

World No. 1. FedEx Cup points leader. Career PGA Tour win No. 22. A good week indeed.

Tara Sullivan is a Globe columnist. She can be reached at tara.sullivan@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @Globe_Tara.