Six years ago, when Justin Leonard told Randy Smith he intended to retire from golf, his longtime swing coach proposed a bet. They put a little money on it.

Smith doubted the retirement would last. He had known Leonard since he was a boy bent on practicing long and hard at Royal Oaks Country Club for a future on the PGA TOUR. Smith certainly respected Leonard’s decision, which was based on sound reasons made by a clear mind. But something told him Leonard would be back.

He is.

The 12-time TOUR winner is set for his return to tournament golf at this week’s Bridgestone SENIOR PLAYERS Championship, marking his debut on PGA TOUR Champions. Leonard, who turned 50 on June 15, intends to make three to five other starts this season on the PGA TOUR Champions. Those tournaments will tell him all he needs to know, he said by telephone from his home in Aspen, Colorado. “I’ve got some time to figure this thing out.”

There was a time when Leonard had it all figured out. He played four years at the University of Texas, three times as a first-team All-American, and won the Southwest Conference individual medal all four times. He won the U.S. Amateur in 1992 and the Fred Haskins Award for best college player in the nation in 1994, the year he also won the individual NCAA championship. He earned enough money on sponsor exemptions as a rookie to get his TOUR card. Leonard never had to endure Q-School.

His career on TOUR took flight in 1996, when he won the Buick Open. A year later, he beat the field by three at the Open Championship at Royal Troon. He won THE PLAYERS Championship the year after that. He made the 45-foot putt on the 17th hole at the 1999 Ryder Cup that essentially assured victory for the U.S. team. Life, which is to say life in golf, was good for another nine years.

Leonard won his last tournament in 2008. Then something happened. A lot of things happened. He began to regret the lost time with his wife and four young children more and more. His play deteriorated. So did his commitment to the game, which would provide him nearly $34 million in career earnings. Leonard started worrying more about missed dance recitals and missed little league games than missed cuts, of which there were many. “And for what?” he said.

“I was kind of beaten up by the game,” Leonard continued. “Which means I beat myself up.”

So, after the 2015 season, he and his family sold their house in Dallas and moved to the Rocky Mountains. Leonard took up mountain biking, skiing, walking their dogs. He started doing broadcasts on Golf Channel, which kept him connected to the game. Most importantly, he got to be present in the lives of his children, now 12, 15, 17 and 18.

He now has the support of all of them in his return to the game, which he started to consider in late 2021, especially because both of his sons are getting serious about golf.

To prepare, Leonard started practicing with deeper intent at the Maroon Creek Club in Aspen. He flew to Callaway headquarters in California to get fitted. He contacted some old friends with the Salesmanship Club in Dallas, which runs the AT&T Byron Nelson, to inquire about an exemption into the 2022 tournament. He wanted to see where his game stood.

On the Friday before the AT&T Byron Nelson, he was driving from Grand Junction, Colorado, where he and his wife Amanda had watched their daughter compete in a regional tennis tournament.

He got a call from Dallas. He was in the field. Leonard flew to Texas two days later with a mix of anxiety, curiosity and that familiar anticipation of long ago.

He shot 71-70 at TPC Craig Ranch, his first start since the 2017 Valero Texas Open. The course felt long, said Leonard, who never had length as an asset (current driver distance: 260 yards, rolling out to 285). He missed the cut by four. But he tapped his competitive spirit again. He heard lots of “Welcome back!” and “Glad to see you here!” salutations from the hometown galleries. He birdied four of the last five holes in his second round to finish a shot under par — proof that he still could summon quality golf under tournament pressure.

“Some good lessons learned,” Leonard said. “If anything, it makes me look even more forward to playing this summer.”

He’ll continue his broadcast career, which now extends to NBC. He used to work up to 17 tournaments a year. He has scaled back to 10 in 2022.

His work in the television booth will make him a more complete player on PGA TOUR Champions, he hopes. He will give himself more grace on the course. He will not think about flawlessness as much as he used to. He will remind himself that “it’s OK to hit an 8-iron to 9-iron to 30 feet” when circumstances dictate. “I’ve watched a lot of golf the last six years,” he said. “I have yet to see a perfect round.”

He will, he said, see where it all goes. The Leonards plan to move this summer to Florida, near Jupiter, where he can play and practice all year.

“My wish for him is that he’s able to love what he’s doing,” Amanda Leonard said. “I hope he’s happy. I hope he’s fulfilled. My hope is that he remembers everything he learned (from) stepping away from the game.”

She and her husband learned a lot about themselves in Colorado. They learned that fulfillment takes many forms, none of which had anything to do with traveling from city to city for golf tournaments, grinding on dozens of different golf courses to make perfect swings, consequential putts or 36-hole cuts. They found peace and solace in the mountains. They found space. They raised a family together, which is difficult when the father is away for 30 weeks a year. Leonard missed nothing — no dance recitals, no sporting events — that other full-time players did.

What’s in store for Leonard after the Bridgestone SENIOR PLAYERS and the other starts with his peers? He said he isn’t sure.

“I’m not trying to predict the future,” he said. “That’s a decision I don’t need to make at this point.”

Back in May at the AT&T Byron Nelson, Leonard did need to make one decision, important to him. He made a stop at Royal Oaks, his boyhood club, and found Randy Smith, his longtime coach.

They did a little work on the range, just like old times. And Leonard made good on his bet.

“I paid it off,” Leonard said, not a touch of regret in his voice.