EYES wide open with an excited glaze across his face, a young lad boards the tube with his father ready for the big game.

Dressed in replica strip and clutching a match programme firmly in his hand, the fan of the future settles nervously for the short trip.

This is what he has been waiting for all week. As the train pulls up outside the stadium, the look of absolute amazement and joy can be seen flowing through every muscle. He is simply overjoyed to be a part of this special occasion.

Within minutes he is whisked away into the crowd of over 50,000 and with hot-dog in hand he is sat in his seat ready for action.

It should be a scene played out across the world at every and any sporting event.

Indeed, there were hundreds of children in the New York Yankees crowd that day, experiencing the excitement of Major League Baseball.

Racing around with autograph books and the free caps they were given at the turnstile, the youngsters had a wonderful time.

Even I, the cynical Brit, who had decided to take in this strange Yank game, was washed along with the atmosphere, excitement and tradition of a sport which clearly has not lost touch with its supporters.

After five hours of pure enjoyment the Yankees lost to the Chicago White Sox 10-9 in a thrilling spectacle.

And, as we filed out of the stadium I saw that little boy's face again, beaming with delight, jumping up and down, quite simply overwhelmed at what he had seen that afternoon.

I decided then that the game I loved, football, had lost something along the line. Something is now missing as a result of the quest for financial gain and Premier success.

While baseball has continued to grow and expand by building huge, state-of-the-art stadia, it has also managed to keep a hold of tradition, and more importantly close contact with the fans.

My experience at the Yankee Stadium was one I shall never forget. It was like my first football match all those years ago.

Even though the match ended in defeat for New York, both sets of supporters, who had mingled with each other during the game, left the ground together, chatting about what the season might bring.

I could not help but compare my experience with what I see in England every week.

And when I returned to the hotel to see what havoc the England thugs had caused at Euro 2000 I started to question whether football really had a future.

When you hear fans chanting obscenities at their own star players like David Beckham, you have to question where it all went wrong.

When clubs start charging £30 a match in the Premier League so that the less privileged supporter can no longer take his young lad to the game you have to question where our beloved game is heading.

The game does have a future, of course it does. But the men who control the football clubs of this country must realise, and realise quickly that they have more than a responsibility to create money.

Sport is there to be enjoyed. And to travel to a big sporting event and enjoy it with the family is the ideal way to experience it.

If we cannot attract that young fan, dressed in replica kit and clutching his match programme, then who will be our future fans?

It is time to take stock. Time to remember why we fell in love with our great sport and time to take it back to the people who really matter the supporters.

If the Yanks can do it, then so can we!