Dave Pelz is quick to state that his latest golf-instruction book is only his bible for the short game. But that’s like the Man Upstairs saying His Bible is only an opinion.

When it comes to golf’s short game, Pelz is God.

Back when Pelz played collegiate golf, there was this fat kid from Ohio State whom he could never quite beat. Pelz decided that maybe professional golf wasn’t for him and focused on his degree in physics. The fat kid grew up to be Jack Nicklaus. But, by the time Pelz figured out that everybody lost to Nicklaus, he had embarked on a career that led to his helping land a man on the moon. Now that Pelz has returned to golf, he has used his scientific training in such a breakthrough way that even touring pros pay to attend his classes.

In Dave Pelz’s Short Game Bible, which Pelz says is the first of four books on various aspects of golf, he basically provides an easier, cheaper way to spend time with the professor. In other words, he is applying his physics skills to accomplish a far tougher task than space travel: He intends to make better golfers of us all.

For an earlier book, Pelz calculated all sorts of details, such as how fast a putt should be struck for it to have the best chance of falling in (fast enough that it would stop 17 inches past the hole). In his latest textbook—and make no mistake, this is a textbook—the physicist mainly argues that success isn’t related to the latest titanium driver. He says success depends on a golden distance: two feet. Pelz’s studies show that almost no one misses a two-foot putt but that, say, 10-foot and 20-foot putts generally lead to the same number of putts per hole. So, it’s his goal to get the ball to two feet from the hole. The rest will take care of itself.

Using sexy subheadings such as “6.13 Calibrate Your Cut-Lob Technique,” Pelz evaluates just about every situation: every short-game club, every type of green, every type of grass, every downhill or uphill lie. He even explains how to hit a ball that has landed in water, offering detailed instruction on how different lies can affect the shot. Harvey Penick or P.G. Wodehouse, this isn’t.

With charts, graphs, and photographs of bad golfers—whose faces are blurred, like criminals on those tabloid television cop shows—Pelz argues that practice should be spent figuring out exactly how far a golfer hits his pitching, sand, lob, and extra-lob wedges. (Oh, yes, not content with the recent addition of a third wedge to many bags, the Good Doctor wants a fourth in there.) He says each wedge should be tested with one-quarter, one-half, and three-quarter swings. Each club and each swing should be calibrated with hands at the top, halfway down the grip, and then all the way down the grip.

The idea is to produce 12 distinct, exact yardages that the golfer feels comfortable repeating. When you’re 37 yards from the hole—as adjusted for all sorts of factors—you take your 37-yard club/grip/swing and give yourself that two-foot putt. At least that’s the theory.

In his studies, Pelz also came up with what he calls the percentage error index. He reports that a typical touring pro is, on average, 7% to 8% off target with his longer clubs—generally left or right. The pro is actually about twice that far off with his wedges—short or long—just when he needs to be most accurate.

This is all good stuff. Just about anyone would benefit from the exercises that Pelz lays out. But too many of the 400-plus pages stress the need for Pelz products: the ChipStick, the ShotMaker lie board that simulates those sidehill lies, or perhaps the Shanker’s Delight. In the back of the book, Pelz—by now an industry unto himself—includes addresses and phone numbers for stores selling his equipment. In addition, while I don’t trust those fix-your-slice-in-10-minute books, it’s just too hard for the average player to duplicate Pelz’s research at Joe’s Bar, Grill, and Driving Range. And, although the book is a bible and needs to be studied as one, there really aren’t a whole lot of Revelations, and it’s too much of a Book of David. Maybe I was looking for the Cliffs Notes.

Carson has cut two strokes from his handicap since reading the book, but don’t look for him on the PGA Tour quite yet.