The game seems like nigh on half a century ago, largely because the players' shorts were so tight it was a miracle they were able to move at all. Dundalk were playing Glasgow Celtic at home in the return leg of the second round of the European Cup and even if the game wasn't exactly down the road it was still worth the trip.

Not that I SAW much of the game, mind. When you're younger than the mascot that leads the teams out on to the pitch and roughly two foot smaller that everyone standing in front of you, you might as well be listening to a radio commentary. It was always the same.

When you arrived they all promised to look after you, either put you on their shoulders or guarantee a six-foot-man-free channel between you and the pitch so you'd at least see the action when it was down your way.

But then the game would start and they'd be so wrapped up in it they'd forget their promises and you'd spend the next 90 minutes pulling their sleeves and asking them what was happening.

It was a salutary, early lesson in that business of men promising you the world but forgetting to deliver once they got distracted.

Once I caught a glimpse of Davie Provan near the corner flag when the beanpole in front of me bent down to pick up something he's dropped, but once he resurfaced I saw no more. Except his back.

A damp squib then? Na, magical. Packed ground, tingly atmosphere, crackling tension, the lot. Dundalk had only lost the first leg 3-2 so all they needed was a 1-0 win to go through on away goals. I went to the game wanting Celtic to survive, and came away heartbroken that they did. A scoreless draw, Dundalk were out and it seemed like there was no justice in the world.

Not that I ended up supporting Dundalk. Well, they weren't my local team, so I adopted an English club instead. Mmm, I know, I know, fair point.

Guilty as charged. But at least it stirred a desire to see more live football and so, for a while anyway, Finn Harps had two extra supporters in the stands whenever they played in Dublin.

Why the nostalgia 'you could buy a bag of crisps for 3p in them days' trip? Well, Celtic are coming to town again so I reckoned maybe this was the chance for a few more kids to get their first taste of live football and, with a bit of luck, they'd be so captivated by it all they'd want some more once the domestic season got under way.

Maybe they'd even grow to love Shelbourne or Cork City as much as they do Liverpool or Manchester United, or at least adopt a local team and show a bit more interest in the National League than they did before. Maybe. No guarantees, of course, but it's worth a try.

But? Have you seen the ticket prices? For the Shelbourne v Celtic game (July 8th) you'll pay £30 for covered seats, £25 for uncovered seats and there's a limited number of tickets at £5 for children.

For the Cork City v Celtic game (July 6th) you'll pay £30 for a seat, £20 to stand and £10 for children.

Remember, too, that these prices are for meaningless pre-season games, not cup finals or Irish internationals (for much the same money you'd have made it in to the recent Ireland v Portugal game), when most of the players on view aren't long back in training so aren't in much better shape than the rest of us.

So, me thinks, there ends all hope of a few mothers and fathers taking themselves and the three kids (plus a couple of their pals) to one of the games, unless they have £100 or more in loose change. Madness.

Yes, they are a few mitigating factors, not least Celtic's likely appearance fee and the cost of security - and it's not unreasonable for local clubs to cash in on the visit of a "foreign" team with big Irish support (to whom they owe nothing because they never receive their support anyway) so they can make a much-needed few bob themselves, but was it really necessary to price the tickets that high?

Accepting that the "support your local team" line is largely falling on deaf ears in the battle to wean most Irish football supporters off the English Premiership and Sky Sports, you'd have to take it that our own league's biggest selling point is that it offers most of those supporters the only opportunity they'll ever get to see real live football.

We can argue forever about the gulf in standards between English and Irish football but few genuine supporters of the game would dispute that nothing, absolutely nothing, compares with actually being at a game, not even sitting in a pub watching Liverpool play United.

Maybe most of them who are well in to their teens or older are a lost cause to the local game but the majority of eight, 10, 12-year-olds are still floating voters, open to all offers so long as there's a bit of excitement on offer.

And, realistically, the majority of them wouldn't make their debuts in the stands or on the terraces of a local ground unless one of the competing teams was one they'd seen on telly and one that featured recognisable figures the likes of Henrik Larsson or Neil Lennon.

Ideally, then, they would turn up to watch Celtic but end up being so enthralled by the experience of seeing a live game that they'd want to come back for more, maybe next time wearing a Shels or Cork City replica shirt. A long shot, of course, such is the lure of televised football, but for most local clubs it's one of the few shots they get in their attempts to boost attendances.

So, common sense surely would tell you that these games should be used as promotional tools by our local clubs, rather than opportunities to screw money out of Irish supporters of foreign teams. Surely they're having a laugh charging £30 for a seat out of the rain at a pre-season friendly?

An opportunity lost.