In the first lesson of A-level economics, you learn there are two things that people continue wanting more of, even as price climbs: addictive goods and status-maximising goods. And football, of course, ticks both boxes.

This weekend Arsenal, originators of the Premier League's first £100 matchday ticket will bring in a new pricing plan, under which the cheapest seat for big matches is £62. Sixty-two pounds. Six thousand, two hundred cola bottles. They're not alone in fleecing fans. A season ticket at Chelsea, behind the goal, is £890. At QPR, an away ticket is £50, one at Liverpool last weekend was £48.

Arsenal argue that their new pricing structure is what fans want and most matches at the Emirates range from £25.50 to £35 – and no doubt there are tens of thousands with the relevant bank statement already framed on their walls – and mitigated by reduced prices for games deemed less attractive. Perhaps a slap round the face is better than a boot to the solar plexus, but still – that's a lot of money to watch a game of football.

There was a time when loyalty to a club was measured by a single aspect: how many games you went to. Yet that is no longer the case – unless, by curious coincidence, every time-served supporter and every young hopeful has the disposable income to finance their fix, or parents with a particularly heavy purse.

Part of the pantomime "it's behind you" football crowd patter is to insult clubs with small followings, but no more; now the joke's on those who go, not those ensconced in the pub or sofa, saying what they like, alongside who they like, drinking what they like.

Last night Newcastle United took only a few hundred to Manchester United, and an entire tier for home support was also closed. Reserve sides playing in a reserve competition, yes, but in theory it shouldn't matter: "Are my club playing? Yes, I'm there". But at £43?

Sometimes market forces work to the benefit of supporters – but only on the clubs' terms. Once Arsène Wenger started using the League Cup to play youngsters, Arsenal significantly reduced prices. Similarly Manchester United write to schools all over the country offering cheap tickets for European games, not as a favour, but as a financial imperative – and contacting those well outside the Greater Manchester area raises a different moral issue.

None of this is what those who set up our various football institutions had in mind. They wanted a place for like-minded individuals to socialise and play sport, something to give a sense of belonging; a club. They were founded for the benefit of these people and their communities, and the supporters who emerged as a consequence are the people with time, hope and love to invest in them.

Clubs would not exist without fans. They would cease to exist without them. And they must not operate independently of them. Thus there exists a moral duty to protect and facilitate this ethos, and a social responsibility to those it represents.

We hear plenty about a generation of kids without identity, with no sense of belonging. Twenty years ago, they could turn up at their local football club and for very little money, enjoy the emotions, sensitivities, experiences, and friendships that come with following a football team. No longer.

The problem, of course, is that we're bereft of reliable authority; in 2011 Uefa moved the Champions League final to a weekend, to enable families to go, then priced tickets so prohibitively. The FA allowed Spurs to float on the stock exchange, the Glazer family to take £256m out of Manchester United and Thaksin Shinawatra to buy Manchester City. The government did nothing.

So it's down to the fans themselves. As we've learnt, painfully and once again through the results of the Hillsborough inquiry, some things are more important than parochial rivalry, and this is another aspect; far less significant, but an aspect nonetheless. So support Supporters Direct, join the Football Supporters' Federation, and take direct action.