SUPPORTING my local football team was instilled in me by my dad when I was only ten. When we moved from the Channel Islands to Sussex in the late 1970s, we followed our nearest team, Brighton & Hove Albion.

Then while studying at Cardiff University in the early 1990s I was a regular at Ninian Park, and since moving to York 20 years ago I’ve got my footballing fix with the Minstermen.

For the past seven years, I have been a York City season ticket holder, watching from the David Longhurst Stand through some of the darkest days in the Conference before the triumphant return to the Football League.

The pilgrimage to Bootham Crescent now constitutes the only live football in my sporting diet, as I can no longer stomach the excesses of the Premier League.

I revealed my loathing for the upper echelons of our national game in deputy sports editor Tony Kelly’s TKO column on the eve of the World Cup and caused something of a stir (in as much as a couple of letters to The Press editor can constitute a stir).

Tony invited his sportsdesk colleagues to “name who they think Roy Hodgson should start in England’s opener against Italy in Manaus”.

My response was: “I don’t feel able to name a starting XI for Roy Hodgson as I haven’t watched a Premier League or international football match for at least six years.

“The soap opera that accompanies top-level football in this country is a total turn-off, so that’s what I do – turn off.”

One letter writer felt it was “amazing” that I, as sports editor, “can decry the nation’s number one sport as a soap opera”.

Another “would expect a sports editor to watch and be knowledgeable about all types of sport, including football”.

Interestingly, both assumed that because I don’t like/watch Premier League football then I obviously don’t like/watch football.

So, just when did the Premier League become ‘football’ in this country?

The assumption that the all-consuming elite is the be all and end all of the game in this country is central to my switching off.

On and off the pitch, the Premier League is all about ‘me’ getting the better of ‘you’, and at any cost. Anything goes, from flouting financial fair play rules to pulling the wool over the eyes of the referee and then blaming him when he misses the opposition trying the same trick.

Too much cash in English football goes straight to the top, be it from TV deals or merchandising (just tot up the number of Premier League shirts sported during a kickabout on Acomb Green or Little Knavesmire), and not enough of it filters down.

Many clubs in our country are scrapping for their very survival each and every day, a fact ignored by the few at the top as they waste yet more millions on average overseas talent.

Gone are the days when the leading clubs in this country would scour the lower leagues for the next emerging youngster, giving clubs like York City a welcome financial boost for nurturing that talent.

Such is the sheer arrogance of the elite, the Football Association and a handful of top clubs are even plotting to hijack the Football League pyramid with their outrageous League Three proposal for Premier League ‘B’ teams. If that ludicrous idea ever makes it beyond the ill-considered proposal stage it will be a huge slap in the face for lower league clubs steeped in the history of the game.

So this week, I will be joining some 1,500 other York City fans in filling out my season ticket renewal form and posting the club a cheque for £275 – vital income in the summer months.

Football – all of football, not just the Premier League – would be the richer (in every sense) if more people followed suit.