The 7-foot-2 center, both treasured and taunted for a game that careened wildly between clumsy and capable, for alternating occasional physical dominance with random mental mistakes, and for a goofy and untroubled demeanor that tended to enrage his coach and captivate his teammates, believes he has between three and five NBA seasons left in his 33-year-old body.

But that's where they will stay.

Ostertag will walk away from the NBA for good sometime around 9:15 p.m. Wednesday, after playing (presumably) the 756th and final game of his 11-year professional career. He still loves basketball, he said, cherishes his teammates' friendships and, yes, even respects the nagging Miss Manners of a coach he never managed to satisfy.

It's those Ritz Carlton folks he can't stand.

Well, not the fancy hotels per se, but the vast portion of his life he has spent in them, and away from his wife Heidi and three little Ostertags. The lifestyle is posh, the game is fun and the money is, well, unimaginably fantastic. But a homebody like the self-described country boy from Texas gets a little tired of it all after a while.

"It's a lot of bus rides, a lot of plane rides, a lot of hotels. And I realized that I just don't want to do it anymore," said the Jazz's lone thirty-something. "Honestly, I thought I would play for 15 years. When I came to camp, I planned on playing at least a couple more. Physically, there's no doubt I could play longer. But I don't have any desire to do that now."

Particularly since Ostertag got a close-up look over these past five months at what four more seasons might feel like: Practicing for opportunities that rarely come, wearing a uniform but rarely a good sweat, his scoring totals looking like something you find in a dish next to a 7-Eleven cash register. He has scored one point since March 1, making Monday's announcement the first time Jazz fans may have noticed Ostertag in a while.

Counting the $4.4 million the Jazz paid him this season after trading three players last August to reunite the center and his professional hometown after a one-year exile in Sacramento, Ostertag has earned close to $50 million, all but $4 million of it from the Utah Jazz.

Hey, it's time to spend a little of it.

"Eventually, I'm going to have to find something to do, in a year or two, just to get out of the house," Ostertag said. "I'm obviously not going to make $50 million again over the next hopefully 50, 60 years of my life. But let's just say I've invested wisely. I'm well taken care of now."

He will miss plenty about the Jazz and the NBA, Ostertag said. Maybe not fighting with Jerry Sloan. But certainly Sloan.

"In the grand scheme of things, I've learned so much from Jerry," said Ostertag, who nevertheless bickered with Sloan so incessantly, he has five suspensions over his last six Utah seasons to show for it. "He taught me to work hard and go after what you want. I played for a great coach."

Even the coach can appreciate Ostertag's contributions - like the 7.3 points and 7.3 rebounds he contributed to the Jazz's first Finals season, in 1996-97. "We fought and knocked around a little bit, but he helped us a great deal," Sloan said. "You know he made it nine out of 11 years in the playoffs. That says something about a player."

And this says something too: Ostertag will go down as one of the most popular players ever to inhabit a Delta Center locker room. Well, among his teammates. " 'Tag's a good guy. He's always cheering for us, always encouraging us," said rookie Deron Williams. "He's been a great teammate."

Fans weren't always so kind, and Ostertag doesn't know what sort of reception he will receive Wednesday. He can't blame them for some ill will, but he hopes he will be remembered fondly eventually.

"They'll remember me for a lot of ups and downs. I've had good games, and my share of bad ones, too," he said. "But it's time for me to go."

pmiller@sltrib.com