It cannot be underestimated the effect last Sunday’s monumental FA Trophy victory had on Wrexham-ites and the wider public.

How the warm afterglow everyone was basking in failed to melt the debilitating snowdrifts across Gogledd Cymru is a mystery.

Much has already been made of the lengths Wrexham fans will go to in order to preserve and protect their local institution. The stories of die-hards digging out their starting points to Wembley Way merely added to the pride already bursting at the seams shown by the Wrex-odus that headed south.

All the hype and build-up was justified – a magnificent game which won plenty of new friends and influenced many people, especially the neutrals who were astounded by the quality of the action.

And so to to the final stage in the cycle – the Wembley postscript. Is it written that Wrexham will now play their remaining home matches in front of crowds swelled by the fence-sitters swayed by the Wembley experience? You know the ones – the “I used to go years ago” brigade, the “it’s too expensive” gripers, etc.

Well, you’d hope so. After all, the players and management deserve it as does Wrexham’s – more often than not – exciting brand of football.

We are all familiar with the Lynx Effect adverts where the guy wearing that musky smell for spotty teenagers is lusted after by a horde of beautiful women.

I’m not saying for one second that Stephen Wright and captain fantastic Dean Keates are going to have their kits ripped to shreds by a lusty mob of female Wrexham fans.

What I am saying is that this is a story that smells of success and surely the time is right for those who love to be associated with a long-term winning streak (see Manchester United, Chelsea, Liverp…oh hang on… :)) to come and be part of something that, ultimately, is special.

If the examples of unity and togetherness I have experienced this week are anything to go by, then expect to be queuing at the Racecourse turnstiles on Monday.

As I took my seat in the local boozer to watch the Wales vs Croatia game on Tuesday, I overheard several punters reminiscing about Sunday. One queried who Wrexham are playing on Monday. The fact this guy, with no previous Wrexham experience prior to Wembley, knew we were playing on Easter Monday was a good start in my mission to preach to the unconverted.

“Macclesfield, 3pm” I replied. “I will be going to that. I’ve got the bug now,” he said, candidly.

The bug that kept Wrexham FC window-shoppers too ill to wearily head for the Cae Ras has now turned into one that does you good – like those wound-cleaning maggots (for the record I am not calling anyone a maggot!).

With that, not even Croatia’s smash-n-grab raid at the Liberty Stadium could dampen my mood.

But it was the second example of the Wrexham effect which was far more poignant and impacting.

A friend with Wrexham roots watched the game on the TV at her Crewe home. As she settled into her sofa she received a text from an old friend she had not seen for some considerable time. ‘U watching the Wxm game?’ enquired the Sheffield-based pal. She informed her she was and they got talking about old times and how the use to go to watch games together. They’ve now planned to go back and make up for lost time.

Seeing the massed banks of red at Wembley stirred another emotion in my friend – homesickness. “It made me realise that I am”, she said. “I asked my daughter if she fancied moving to Wales. I was expecting her to go mad and tell me all her friends were here. Instead, she jumped at the suggestion.”

Wrexham Football Club. Home is where the heart is.