SANDY — I caught up to Bobby Clampett as he hustled to the driving range at Willow Creek Country Club on Wednesday and asked if he had a minute to talk.

"Sure," he said. "Walk with me, I'm running late."

I said I could wait for a more convenient time, but it was obvious he couldn't. He was in a rush.

Wasn't that always the case?

Clampett doesn't appear to have changed much since his days as a BYU All-American, three decades ago. He's grown up, gained a family, become a TV commentator. He runs golf academies, writes books, fills corporate speaking engagements. But his curly hair still cascades rebelliously from the back of his cap. He remains lean and full of barely contained energy.

And he still has that I-can-beat-anyone grin.

For Wednesday's Utah Championship Pro-Am, Clampett wore a canary yellow shirt, royal blue pants and a red cap.

He always did have a knack for drawing attention.

"What's this, the Rainbow Connection?" teased a colleague.

"Tutti-fruity," shot back Clampett.

Another friend came by.

"Hey," said Clampett, "how are you, buddy?"

Old friends, old times. But new times, too.

This week's Nationwide Tour event marks Clampett's serious return to the game. A regular PGA Tour member for 14 years, he is now nearing 50, the age when players can join the lucrative Champions Tour.

"I've got 19 1/2 months to go," said Clampett, taking several practice swings. "This tournament actually starts my focus on playing, because broadcasting is over for the year. We won't do anything until next year, and I've got several tournaments to play, so ... "

So he's almost there. His second chance at the big time.

Once he was a promising teenager, at age 18 ranked the country's top amateur. That same year he became the youngest ever to finish in the top 24 at the Masters. He finished ninth in the 1980 Buick Open.

He led the 1982 British Open by seven strokes after two rounds, but a third-round 78 doomed him.

His only PGA Tour win was that year at the Southern Open.

Clampett was brash, gifted, blithe and ultimately disappointing.

Yet he often seemed to make news, even when he wasn't on the leaderboard. At the 1979 U.S. Open, he failed to make the cut, but was invited to play as a marker in the championship round. Miffed over his situation, he amused himself and fans by teeing off from his knees on several holes and putting between his legs. A USGA marshal finally removed him at No. 12.

With its myriad etiquettes and protocols, golf had no patience for a spontaneous, inventive, cocky kid.