It's that time of the year. Mid-January. The phone rings and the mouth goes dry. There is a sick feeling in the pit of the stomach. Your accountant is seeking a meeting to discuss the annual returns. Why do we feel so guilty when the accountant calls and we are paying him a fortune to tell us what we know? I suppose because he reminds us of a commissaire... 'Everything ok?' 'You've made a loss.' 'I thought we had had a fair year.' 'You had. But you have an expensive grandson.' A chuckle. The phone goes silent.

It has been roughly the same conversation each year since our 19-year-old grandson, who lives with us, took to cycle racing in 1996. On my mountain bike. In what I was told was a little friendly informal event called a cyclo-cross race run by one Bob Hayward for Diss Cycling Club. The lad came very, very last.

For a start, the saddle fell off. The bike was as heavy as lead. And that, I thought, was that. Must try to get him interested in another hobby. Wrong. He had fallen for the lure of the racing bike and his life and that of his grandad and grandmother changed with dramatic suddenness.

He is turning into a very good cyclo-cross man, mountain bike rider, road racer and a pretty fair time triallist. He has also tried his hand at grass track at Mildenhall Rally. And he has also been very lucky: he's found a professional coach who knows how to deal with him, a physiotherapist with the patience of Job, and a doctor always ready to advise. Fortunately they all just love riding bikes. If we had to pay for this back-up team our accountant would have heart failure.

Commitment has been all. In terms of time. In terms of family. In terms of sacrifice of all other interests. In terms of money. And for the young man himself in terms of holidays, in terms of employment prospects - he needs a lot of time to train - and in terms of education. Now he will go to university a year late.

For grandad and grandmother, backing their eldest grandchild means an end to weekends in bed, and an introduction to a new world where for holidays read driving all over the country from one muddy field or forest to another, of boring the neighbours and the rest of the family with tales - and even worse, videos - of cycle races, of spending hours being abused as a race marshal or, for grandmother, of helping with refreshments.

And, if not being abused by other riders, being shouted at by grandson for (a) not handing him a clean cross bike quickly enough or (b) causing him to drop his drinks bottle or (c) not realising he wanted you to clean his filthy cycling shoes and spattered helmet or (d) filming him when he had had a bad day and was being spat out of the back of the pack or (e) stopping him from going home because you had become a member of the regional cyclo-cross committee and were delayed by a meeting or (f) had stupidly agreed to help clear the mountain bike course.

And all this commitment from you and the other volunteers because you are so proud when he wins a £10 race prize which does not even cover the entrance money and would not even buy a replacement set of decent brake blocks. That's if he used ordinary brakes. And you love it.

Which is all building up to a proud grandfather asking if the powers that be, wrapped up with their World Performance Plans for very, very few, or travelling to exotic climes for training, are really aware of why fewer and fewer parents are willing to allow their offspring to come into a sport which demands such a concentrated commitment and sometimes crippling family sacrifice in such a pressured age.

I wonder how much those in charge of British cycling politics - and of the racing which can demand so much in terms of expensive equipment and time - really understand what that all means to ordinary people. And why so many parents say they genuinely cannot help and come to dread their children's obsession with racing on two wheels.

My accountant could tell them.

Grandad had his obsession with cycling nearly half a century ago. He bought a £8 frame from a cycle dealer for five shillings a month. Rode it fixed wheel for touring and for attempts at massed start racing. Then he would put the mudguards back on and use it for work. His workouts consisted of long rides and plenty of Elliman's Rub.

Now, for his grandson he uses a spreadsheet to control a year round seasonal race programme for fixtures from Scotland to Plymouth; has a special account to keep track of costs including subscriptions and a small fortune in race entry fees; organises extra insurance to safeguard about nine bikes (including one Italian road bike, a matched pair of cross bikes, a mountain bike and what is called a'playbike' with a saddle about two inches from the ground), road rollers, warm-up rollers, tools and tyres which together are worth more than the family's two battered cars.

Books hotel rooms for national events, buys loads of films and, for some reason, hundredweights of bananas and dozens of bottles of mineral water, bike cleaning fluid, cans of oil, food and drink supplements, lots of tyres and tubes but few puncture repair kits.

Grandad invested in digital TV to watch Eurosport because cycle racing is not football; pays subscriptions to umpteen cycling magazines; buys Lance Armstrong books, training videos, dietary guides and constantly replaces disappearing drinks bottles.

Grandmother daily washes mountains of cycling kit and says she goes to all the races because there is not much joy in staying at home looking at threadbare carpets because a new pair of ultralight wheels, paper thin saddles or a new pair of carbon fibre forks took priority. Grandad keeps his mouth shut. He knows she does not mean it.

All obsessive sports mean family sacrifices. They always have. But when a young person is striving for excellence and results in a situation where national funding agencies are only interested in medal success it is impossible for even the most dedicated ordinary families to match the university technical physiological support and the financial sponsorship enjoyed by the few.

Grandad has heard on race circuits the not-so-subtie pressure put on by some governing body coaches which can drive young talent out of the sport because of the enormous cost of the commitment being called for - and not just in terms of money sacrifices. He and grandmother are lucky - they really enjoy doing it. He hopes grandson can continue to.

Maybe social, economic, relational and financial awareness should be part of every coach's training curriculum.