Weighing up the price of football
Not surprisingly, given they've cut their prices by 25%, Preston couldn't wait to talk about how they put their fans first.
Oxford United's caterers - no need to re-read - sent out a full-page statement warning of the dangers of talking about "headline prices" of a cuppa and a pie - you might want to re-read that - because they didn't take into account quality or portion size. I jest not.
When you survey tickets prices of football clubs, you don't so much open a can of worms, as morph them into anxious, PR-conscious prairie dogs, looking over their shoulders at the rest and eyeing the sky for journalists and fans ready to pounce on anyone caught in the noon sun.
But is it that bad? I mean, really?
It's the football fans' favourite anecdote to bemoan the price of tickets. But expensive or not, 16 million people watched Football Leagues games last season. Not all of them could have been the wealthy middle classes, munching on prawn sandwiches from the corporate boxes.
That football is expensive is relative. Head to Iron Maiden (remember them) at the Manchester Evening News Arena recently, and the cheapest price was £43. At Old Trafford and the Etihad Stadium this season - to watch the Premier League champions and the world's richest club - it could cost you as little as £28 or £25.
Even at Arsenal where the most expensive ticket will cost you £100 - just 1% of tickets available - they hardly struggle to sell seats. More than 60,000 turned out at the Emirates Stadium last weekend to see a pre-season friendly against Boca Juniors. It'll be the same when the season kicks off for real next weekend.
A portion of fish and chips at Trent Bridge for a county match will cost £5.95
Clubs compete in regional, as well as divisional, marketplaces, where the economic trends of the area play as big a part as the football on the pitch. So it's not overly surprising that the likes of Preston, Rochdale, Blackburn, Bolton and Wigan compete against each other for the casual fans.
The same applies for Arsenal, Tottenham and Chelsea. Metropolitan London with a greater potential fanbase of affluence and disposable income, compared to the north west - smaller fanbase, lower wages. Not rocket science really.
So different prices for different levels of football is understandable, yet almost every club sticks with the £3 - or thereabouts - guideline for programmes.
Yet when it comes to a cuppa, (only tea bag, hot water and milk last time I checked) prices vary from 50p at Crawley to £2.20 at the same Blackburn club who offer the cheapest day out in the Premier League. Presumably, just about the same tea, but with a different environ and a captive audience. Market forces.
Two weeks ago I went to a Lancashire T20 game at Old Trafford, and bought my son and I cheeseburger and chips. The price? £11. But I did what we all do. I raised my eyebrows, muttered about yesteryear, looked at his expectant face and then paid up. He didn't even eat it, but that's not the point, and I'm not bitter.
What is the point, is that I paid at all. And that was my choice. Of course it was expensive, but going to sport is just that.
When I was young I moaned about the price of football as I watched Grimsby Town get promoted out of the old fourth division. More than 20 years on, we're having the same conversations. Yet we're still paying. No-one makes us.
This weekend, as the Football League gets under way, about 350,000 people will be at the games amid the backdrop of one the country's most difficult financial periods since the Second World War.
No-one will force anyone to make sacrifices to watch football. Yet they will - the only question is whether clubs are treading the fine line between providing value for money, or are profiteering from passion and dedication.
By Stuart Rowson, BBC Sport website editor