That summer of 1999, there was precious little of the outward angst or inner turmoil so often associated with those who face an identical decision.

And, at some point, sooner or later, by choice or by circumstance, they all must.

“I guess,” reasons Jamie Macoun, over three decades later, “it’s something similar to being outside in the cold, working.

“Like, say, a construction guy.

“You’re out there all day, and you finally get finished and come in out of the cold and then – only then – do you start to realize how cold you actually are, how sore you are and how everything else you are.

“That’s how it happened for me.

“All the punishment you take and you dish out adds up.

“You stop working out the way you had been and all these bruises, bangs, sore spots, that I’d accumulated over time came to the surface.

“I’d say it really was about a year, a year and half before I started feel good again. Felt normal. Before I’d wake up in the morning and say: ‘Oh, my knees aren’t sore anymore.’ Or: ‘My shoulders feel better.’

“All those little things.
“Meaning the simple answer is: I was happy to retire. “I was turning 39 that summer.

“I was kinda my own agent at the time and didn’t put any feelers out, didn’t even ask any other teams. I mean if, say, Cliff Fletcher had called me up and said: ‘Hey, Jamie, we’ve got a spot for you’ I probably would’ve gone.

“But I didn’t go looking for it.

“I’d put a long shift in.”

Long, yes. And quietly distinguished, too. Over 1,300 top-flight games. Two Stanley Cup rings to show. Tutored by some illustrious coaches, among them Badger Bob Johnson, Pat Burns and Scotty Bowman. A pair of World Championship silver medals and the  Directorate Award as top defenceman of the 1991 tournament in Finland.

A resume that would be the envy of most.

All of this as an undrafted, rock-solid, not-to-be-trifled-with defenceman out of the Ohio State Buckeyes’ hockey program; who’d dropped out of school to sign a pro contract with the Calgary Flames in January of 1983.

At the time he could’ve had absolutely no inkling of where the game would steer him.

So when the end did, in fact, arrive, he took a good, solid, year off, puttered around the house, hung out with the kids, played some golf.

Decompressed. Healed up.