Golf Medicine, Student-Centered Coaching & The Penick Way

In this second installment of the Little Red Reels blog series, Steven L. Bradley—award-winning journalist, BBFA founder, and graduate student in Keiser University’s Golf Teaching & Learning program—unpacks the deceptively powerful lesson behind one of Harvey Penick’s simplest lines: “When I ask you to take an aspirin, please don’t take the whole bottle.” Blending insights from Penick’s Little Red Video with modern principles of motor learning, athlete trust, and instructional design, this post explores how great teachers say less to help their players learn more. Featuring commentary from Ben Crenshaw and Tom Kite, this reel captures the soul of Southern coaching, the science of simplicity, and the magic of presence.

HARVEY PENICK'S LITTLE RED REELSCOLLEGE OF GOLFBBFA

Steven Bradley

4/17/20253 min read

✍️ By Steven L. Bradley
Chief Golf Officer, BBFA | Graduate Student, Keiser University | Truth Teller, Belief Builder

There’s a line in The Little Red Book that seems too simple to matter—until you realize it explains the whole problem with how most people learn golf.

When I ask you to take an aspirin, please don’t take the whole bottle.”
Harvey Penick

That’s not just Texan charm. That’s golf pedagogy. That’s neuroscience. That’s motor learning science, psychology, coaching science—and if you're paying attention, it’s also parenting.

And that’s why this second installment in the Little Red Reels series matters.

This isn’t a reel about technique. It’s about temperament. It’s not about drills. It’s about dosage. It’s the soul of coaching through presence. And as a professional student in Keiser’s Master of Science in Golf Teaching and Learning program, I’m struck by how often we forget that the best teachers don’t always say more. They say less.

That’s Penick.

🪙 One Coin, Two Lessons

When Dave Marr opens this segment, he’s not narrating a tip. He’s eulogizing a method. This is legacy-level instruction—not because of Penick’s resume, but because of the reverence in the voices of his pupils.

Ben Crenshaw calls him solid and patient, “like those oak trees.” Tom Kite talks about how Penick taught him with the same energy he gave a 36-handicap.

“He’s not teaching a 36-handicap a particular swing, and then Tom Kite and Ben Crenshaw another… He’s trying to improve that 36-handicap’s swing to make it as good as it can be.”
– Tom Kite

That’s not just humility. That’s student-centered coaching—a concept we unpack in depth at Keiser. Whether you're teaching a six-year-old or a seasoned pro, Penick reminds us: it’s not about what you say. It’s about who you say it to—and how much you think they can hear.

🧠 Golf Medicine

Let’s go back to the aspirin.

In a game like golf, where tiny adjustments carry massive ripple effects, the danger isn’t ignorance—it’s overcorrection. It’s the well-meaning player who had one good lesson, and now can’t stop tinkering with ten swing thoughts.

Lessons are not to take the place of practice, but to make practice worthwhile.”
– Penick

This aligns with a core principle in motor learning science: variability without overload. Instructors must balance external cues with limited, digestible feedback. According to Vealey & Chase (2016), athletes build confidence through mastery experiences—but only when they can make sense of the task at hand.

A student can’t master chaos. They can master clarity. That’s what Penick offers.

🗣️ The Way He Spoke

Crenshaw says, almost laughing, that Penick’s wisdom was “absurdly simple.”

“They say, ‘Well, that’s absurd, it’s so simple.’ But when they go out and try it, it works.”

That’s not an accident. That’s language-based learning at the highest level. In SPM550, we talk about guided discovery and the value of metaphors in teaching young golfers. Penick’s stories didn’t just stick—they shaped muscle memory.

This is instructional design disguised as folksy storytelling. It’s why Penick didn’t believe in “lessons” for kids. He believed in games, freedom, and small moments of correction that felt more like conversation than correction.

That’s also why he kept Kite and Crenshaw from hearing each other’s lessons. He didn’t want irrelevant instruction contaminating their individual growth.

You want to talk about expertise? That’s expertise.

🫱 The Touch on the Shoulder

The moment in this video that lingers isn’t about mechanics but mentorship.

Crenshaw talks about coming back to Penick after struggling on tour. One glance at a few swings, and Penick knew something was wrong.

Then he did something rare: he touched him on the shoulder. And he said:

“Ben, don’t ever wait this long to come back to see me.”

That’s coaching.

That’s what we’re studying at the College of Golf—how to build athlete trust not through credentials, but connection. This is the bridge between emotional intelligence and technical expertise. Penick didn’t just tweak Crenshaw’s grip—he stabilized his soul.

🧩 The BBFA Link

At BBFA, we’re not here to be flashy. We’re here to be effective.

This reel is a masterclass in dosage, delivery, and devotion. And as a professional student and certified golf coach, the more I learn in this program, the more I realize Harvey Penick was decades ahead of the research. He did everything I’m studying—motor control, individualized feedback, layered complexity, learning design—all.

He just did it with fewer words.

📽️ This blog is part of the BBFA x Little Red Reels Series.
Watch the reels, train purposefully, and join the movement at sofriedgolf.com.