I Teach People to Play Golf

Nothing I teach is new or original. How could it be? The game has been around for more than 500 years. Everything I teach was understood by someone long before me.

What I do is teach people to play golf. It is as simple as that.

If I had taught only golf, I would not have lasted 40 days, much less 40 years. What has sustained me is that every hour presents a different problem to solve. If I teach six people in one day, it is quite likely that I will give six entirely different lessons.

Every golfer is different. Each presents a different swing problem, and each learns, listens, and interprets what I say differently. THAT is what has sustained me for these oh-so-many years.

I do not have a method. I have never believed that every golfer should swing the club in the same way. Yet every swing problem must ultimately be answered in the same place: IMPACT.

When I first meet a student, I do not begin by studying the swing. I observe the BALL FLIGHT. I watch the trajectory, the initial direction, the curve of the shot, and the divot created at impact. Within those first few minutes, I usually have all the information I need to establish a lesson plan.

Then—and only then—do I study the swing. I look for the motion that may be causing the clubface, swing path, or angle of attack to produce the unwanted result. ALWAYS in that order.

Since the days when golf was played with mashie niblicks and spoons, the laws of impact have not changed. They are immutable laws of physics. Every golf lesson should begin by determining which of those laws was violated to make the ball do what it just did.

Then we come to the most interesting—and enjoyable—part of the lesson: How do I explain the cause of the problem, and what am I going to ask the student to try?

This is why every lesson is unique, even though the issues are universal.

I have learned that communication is most effective when an idea is presented in the simplest possible way, regardless of the player’s skill level. A teacher can never assume that an accomplished golfer understands the cause of a swing problem. If the player understood it, he or she probably would not have come to the teacher for help.

In the movie Margin Call, Jeremy Irons’ character asks that something be explained to him as though he were a young child—or a golden retriever. I have never known a student to be offended when I explain a problem that simply. In fact, most appreciate the clarity.

A teacher of ANY subject—not simply golf—should understand the subject in all its complexity and teach it in all its simplicity.

Experienced teachers develop many ways of expressing the same idea. ONE of those explanations may give a student the opportunity to experience an “aha moment”—that flash of recognition when the issue finally becomes clear in THEIR mind.

No, we coaches are not solving world hunger or curing cancer. But for one hour, we may make a golfer happier, a little more knowledgeable, and a little more enlightened.

THAT is why I have enjoyed my work for so very long.