The first year my father bought season tickets to New England Patriots games, 25 years ago, they cost eight bucks apiece. He bought two seats in the north end zone of Foxboro Stadium. Maybe it was called Sullivan Stadium at the time, I know it was no longer Schaefer Stadium.

Anyway, two tickets for 10 games (even then, you had to buy the two preseason games) cost $160.

This past season, the cheapest season ticket in Gillette Stadium ran you $650. The seats my family had cost $1,170 each, not including taxes and fees.

After 25 years, my dad and I recently decided to give them up.

It’s not about the money, at least not completely. Its not hard to salt away $1,170 when you really want to. Travel was a factor, as in we got sick of it. It’s approximately 340 miles round trip from my father’s house in Vermont to Foxbrough, Mass. For me, driving from central Maine, the trip was 430 miles. From the second I left my house in the morning to the second I returned, going to a Patriots game was a 13 or 14 hour day.

The money involved is a small factor. A 430 mile trip uses a lot of gas. There’s tolls, and parking, and the cost of food and drink for tailgaiting. If you go to a night game, roll in the cost of a hotel room. It adds up, and every year it seems to go up.

We had a good run. We saw the Patriots evolve from the worst franchise in the NFL to the best. We saw the team slog its way to six Super Bowls. We saw three championship banners raised. We saw records fall.

My seat started out as a metal bench and became molded plastic. Two seats in the end zone became four seats on the sideline. A nearby harness track closed, and a mall, hotel and other shops went up.

Of course I’ll miss it. I’ve been going to Patriot games for over half my life.

If the old man doesn’t want to go, then I don’t want to go without him. There was something missing last year when the Patriots played the Denver Broncos and Baltimore Ravens in the AFC playoffs. It was him. He watched the game in his warm condo in Myrtle Beach. The friends I went to the games with are great, and we all had good times, but it felt odd turning to give somebody a high five after a New England touchdown and not having it be my father.

There are the people who sat in front of us, and in back. I don’t know any names, but over a decade, it was nice to see the same faces year after year, to celebrate the highs and mourn the lows with the same group of fans. I hope they treat whoever gets my seats as well as they treated us.

I saw a man sneak booze into the stadium in a sunscreen bottle. I saw a man wear a pumpkin carved and painted to look like a Cincinnati Bengals helmet.

I saw a giant Patriots helmet open to reveal Ozzy Osbourne singing “Crazy Train.” That’s the definition of something you do not see every day.

In a snow storm on a cold Saturday night 10 years ago, I saw Adam Vinatieri make the toughest field goal in NFL history, sort of. I never saw the ball through all the snow flakes, and when I see the play on television now, I still can’t make out the ball.

Three months ago, I saw Billy Cundiff of the Ravens miss one of the easiest field goals in playoff history. I hugged strangers who a few Sundays each year are close and dear friends.

I have memories of big plays and historic games, obviously, but most of my memories, the ones I’ll cherish, involve the people I watched the games with. Tailgate parties with my father, brothers, and friends. Dissecting the game in the car as we sat in traffic.

There’s a season ticket waiting list 1,000 miles wide. Somebody will be glad to get off of it and into Gillette Stadium. I hope the next family who has those seats gets as much out of them as we did.

Travis Lazarczyk — 861-9242

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