There's nothing like talking to young people to make you feel old. Lewis Dunk, one of the shining stars of Brighton and Hove Albion's youth academy, was born in 1991, by which time I was a student, already well-versed in sleeping until teatime Neighbours and failing to interest women. Sitting across my kitchen table from the 16-year-old and his dad, I am suddenly aware that I'm far closer in age to the latter and that given different circumstances I could be Lewis's father - except then he'd be crap at football.

Dunk tells me that he's doing a GCSE in Leisure and Tourism. I bite my tongue on the verge of scoffing that "leisure and tourism isn't a proper subject", the same way people used to scoff that "art isn't a proper subject - ancient Greek, now that's academia". I am, officially, a 35-year-old Old Git.

On his 16th birthday in November, Dunk was promoted to the Under-18 squad - a huge jump but he's not looked back. Having spent the last few months with players two years his senior, Dunk was recently part of the reserve team squad that travelled to Wycombe. He was on the bench and might have come on for 20 minutes had the senior pro Kerry Mayo not been sent off. This, remember, is a lad who was 15 three months ago.

Later this year, Dunk will leave school but Leisure and Tourism's loss is the Seagulls' gain. Of the 14 players in his year at Brighton, eight have become scholars at the club. It is, admits Dunk, a tough process and a "really nerve-racking time" in the run-up to decision day. He was told he'd made it after a game for the Under-18s, when he was called into the office of Martin Hinshelwood, the club's director of football. "It was the proudest moment of my career so far," he admits.

But six of Dunk's friends, with whom he'd played for five years, didn't make it. "They were pretty cut up. They'll have to go and try out at other clubs now." Would he have done the same, persevered at club after club? "Definitely," he says, like the question's a daft one. Disappointment is the nature of football. Dunk is aware that even the best youngsters can fail to make the grade. "The club make sure we've got other skills too. Next year, we'll train every day, but on Monday and Friday afternoons we'll go off to college in Lewes to do a BTEC in sport science."

You don't need to be a sports scientist to work out that a gangly 16-year-old might find the jump up to Under-18 football intimidating, but Dunk, a centre-back, has taken it in his stride. "It was a big step up physically. A few opponents tried to bully me a bit, but I've started doing weights now, and I'm getting bigger and stronger. I can cope. The football's much faster too, and I found myself getting tired at the end of games. That's when you start to make mistakes. But it's all gone pretty well."

At a time when English football is criticised for lacking craft and guile, Dunk's training at Brighton is encouraging. "We're taught to keep the ball, not to hoof it clear. It's all about building from the back. Even as a centre-back, there's an emphasis on keeping possession." He cites playing at Stamford Bridge, aged 10, as a high point. The idea of all these four-foot nippers running around on Chelsea's full-sized pitch seems to sum up what's wrong with youth football in England, even if Shaun Wright-Phillips does it every week. "No," corrects Dunk. "We played across the pitch."

As a self-confessed Chelsea fan, does Dunk imagine playing the full-length of the pitch at Stamford Bridge for Chelsea one day? "My ambition for now is to make it as a pro," he says, reservedly. But surely he allows himself to dream? "I've not really thought about it." Would he have the mental strength to cope with 40,000 fans on his back? "I think so. If you're going through a rough period in a game, how you deal with it is what's really important. It's what really matters."

Mental strength and maturity, it would seem, is not a problem for Dunk. His dad confirms that his son's biggest asset is his composure, although Dunk himself cites his aerial ability and his reading of the game. His favourite player is Italy's World Cup-winning captain Fabio Cannavaro, the epitome of intelligent defending. Another favourite, not surprisingly, is John Terry. Does he think Terry is worth £130,000-a-week? Dunk laughs. "I think it's a bit too much to be honest, but I wouldn't mind being on that myself."

With Dunk still at the fledgling stage, few opponents have made a name for themselves but one or two stick out. Luke Freeman, who Arsenal recently signed from Gillingham, is one. "He's very tricky. He's got good movement, he's quick and difficult to defend against." Another, John Bostock, made his full debut for Crystal Palace late last year aged just 15. "He wasn't that good when I used to play against him but, as he's got older, he's just got better and better." As for the best teams - well, romantics had better look away now. "The top teams are probably Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester United and Liverpool." Oh. Anyone else? "Um ... Norwich are quite good. And Ipswich. We played Plymouth the other day - they are a strong, physical side."

Dunk says there are no problems with violence at youth level - games are hard but fair. There is no diving either, and players who swear at the referee are immediately subbed. The game sounds a million miles away from the cynical world of the Premier League, and with his polite, shy nature, Dunk is certainly no big-time Charlie. It's partly, no doubt, down to his parents. Mark, Lewis's father, sees his role as "keeping Lewis's feet firmly on the ground. We give him a good family grounding, bring him up the right way. So far it's had its rewards, and to be fair to Brighton they've been brilliant with him."

A former youth-team player who shared a dressing room at Southampton with Mick Channon and Kevin Keegan in their pomp, Mark knows all about football's capricious nature, and its twin imposters of triumph and disaster. "At the moment, things are going well, but they can change in an instant in football."

It's easy to see why Lewis Dunk has the assets to go all the way in football. Initially nervous in this, his first ever interview, he quickly relaxes, fielding questions on a range of subjects with disdainful ease. Luckily, I have one more weapon in my arsenal. "So, Lewis, does being a footballer impress the girls?" He looks at his dad quickly, reddens, and examines his nails. "Sometimes," he mutters, looking appalled at the question. His dad and I smirk at each other. Job done.