It was bad enough that last week’s Masters extended to 30 the number of consecutive majors in which Europe has failed to produce a winner. That the streak was stretched by a young American who was contending for the first time, a journeyman member of the US Ryder Cup team whose habit is to cave in at every opportunity, has served only to deepen the biggest mystery in golf.

With his unlikely triumph at Augusta National, Zach Johnson has heaped more pressure on the underachieving Europeans who seem to be running out of answers to the game’s most popular question. Tiger Woods, they used to say, won half of the major championships, which made it doubly difficult for them to break through. It was, they insisted, only a matter of time. If they continued to knock on the door, one day it would open.

And then, with blatant disregard for their logic, along comes the unassuming Johnson, strolling over the threshold with no previous experience, and no world No 1 standing in his way. The 31-year-old from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, whose only previous PGA Tour victory was three years ago, held firm in a brutal week at Augusta with a solid, sensible display in demanding conditions that recalled nothing so much as Paul Lawrie’s win at Carnoustie in 1999, the last time a European won a major.

Losing to Tiger, they can take. But to Zach Johnson?

To make matters worse, there is little prospect of an immediate end to the hoodoo, with the US Open representing their next opportunity. If, at Oakmont in June, a European is to win a major for the first time in eight years, it will be the first time a European has won the US Open in 37.

Tony Jacklin, of course, was the winner in 1970. The Englishman, who has come out of retirement to play at Carnoustie this summer, is as perplexed as anybody else by the statistic, and can only stand by his long-held belief that more of the top Europeans should up sticks and move to the United States. It would, he says, be a decision that demonstrated their commitment to success in a part of the world that, like it or not, must be conquered if greatness is to be acquired. “Ultimately, it comes down to self-belief, inner confidence, and feeling like you belong. The more often that you play here, the more you gain on that score,” says Jacklin. “It is very difficult to come here and do it with a hit-and-run. One of the keys to my success was that I made this [America] my main tour. The guys who live here are comfortable with the way of life. They don’t have to adjust.” Three of the four majors are held in the United States, and 22 of the past 30 winners have been American. As every venue grows tougher and longer than the last, The Masters is becoming more like the US Open, the US PGA championship is becoming more like the US Open, and even the US Open is becoming more like the US Open.

“The American tour is more uniform in the conditions that it provides on a weekly basis,” says Jacklin, who exercised his right, as a major winner, to play on the practice days at Augusta. “Europe is far more interesting because you play a bigger variety of courses, but I’m not sure that a bigger variety of courses and weather conditions is the best way to prepare for majors in America.”

His comments echo the views of Luke Donald, who thinks that the fairways and flags of the European Tour do not prepare players for majors. Donald went to college in the United States, as did his compatriot, Paul Casey, who lives in Arizona, while their fellow Englishman, Justin Rose, has set up home in Florida. All finished in the top 10 last Sunday night, with Ian Poulter, another Florida resident, tying for 13th.

They, and their colleagues, are clearly good enough, as demonstrated by their positions in the world rankings, and their proven superiority in the Ryder Cup. Jacklin, though, says that the character shown by Europeans in their biennial match against America, four of which he enjoyed as captain, is not necessarily enough to sustain a career of major challenges.

“We have a lot of spirit in the Ryder Cup, where you have teammates pulling for you, but majors are a solitary pursuit,” he says. “You are on your own for longer, you have to be tough, single-minded, and it has to be in your gameplan for a long, long time. You have to go the whole way. It has to be deep in your psyche. You have to go in there thinking, this is what I live for.” Europe can learn from last week. Johnson’s winning total, which equalled the highest in Masters history, was a triumph for those who are supposed to be too slight, in stature and physique, for a sport transformed by technology. The man who continues to play his own game, who doesn’t try to beat Woods, has the biggest chance of doing so. Even if it is only now and then.

In the final round, Johnson was standing in the middle of the 15th fairway, when he heard a Tiger roar. He knew the world No 1 had eagled the 13th hole, which left the then world No 56 with a crucial decision to make. Either he could be bold, seize the moment and pick up two shots of his own with a long iron across water to a repellent green, or he could take the easy option, the one he had followed all week, and win the tournament.

That he, and most others, opted for the latter has led to criticism of an Augusta set-up that rewarded caution and punished the adventurous shots of which only the world’s best players are capable. With many of the major venues adopting a similar strategy, perhaps Europe’s best chance of a major lies not with he who can take on Tiger, but with he who doesn’t try to. Maybe it will fall to the plodder, as Donald is sometimes known, or to Rose, whose power is limited. What price another Lawrie, whose local knowledge enabled him to plot a safe way round Carnoustie?

Woods, who accounts for 11 of the majors won since 1999, says that he prefers grinding battles against par, but the statistics suggest otherwise. All but one of his dozen wins has been with a total of 11-under or less. Since Lawrie’s victory eight years ago, only one other major winner, David Toms in the 2001 US PGA championship, has emerged triumphant from a birdiefest.

When the scores are low, Woods wins. When the scores are high, he doesn’t, and the more potential there is for surprise. As well as Johnson’s one-over par total, Lawrie won at Carnoustie on six over, Ben Curtis was one under at the 2003 Open, and Michael Campbell was even par when he came out on top at the 2005 US Open at Pinehurst.

For the Europeans, last week’s Masters was an opportunity missed. Not only did Woods struggle, but prospective winners had a chance to avoid the usual pressure. Like Lawrie, Campbell and Curtis before them, they might have made it through the week without significant media attention, thanks toa leaderboard on which just about every player went backwards. On the final day, those capable of an early, respectable score could have stolen in ahead of the spotlight, and waited for the title to come to them.

It is not the first time they have failed to capitalise. The same happened in last year’s US Open at Winged Foot, when Colin Mont-gomerie and Padraig Har-rington, together with Phil Mick-elson, had only to do the simple things well, but somehow handed the trophy to a startled Geoff Ogilvy. Last week, Har-rington went for the 15th green in three of his four rounds, and found water on each occasion. He finished four shots behind Johnson.

“It’s easy to be overanalytical,” says Jacklin, who fears that, amid all this conjecture, we are reaching the stage where no factor is bigger than the statistic itself. The phenomenon has come to be self-perpetuating. The longer it goes on, the more it is discussed, and the more difficult it becomes. Maybe the main reason no European has won a major since 1999 is that no European has won a major since 1999.