I remember a moment from my amateur days. I was up in Auckland. A player in front of me threw his club in anger. When he came back through on the next fairway, I climbed a tree to retrieve his club.
I handed it over and said: "Here you go, sir. It might be useful."
I didn't say anything about his temper. I didn't tell him to calm down. I just got his club back for him. He didn't say much either. But he didn't throw it again.
Sometimes the best lesson is not a word. It's a hand reaching down from a tree.