Did you feel it? That crackle in the air? The sense of certainty?

Last Saturday was special because we reverted to the norm. Home games over the last couple of years have been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

A perfect synthesis of fans and team, a mutually beneficial relationship, the relentless racket of unity.

We’d created the perfect virtuous circle: the fans didn’t lose faith because they trusted the team would deliver; the team delivered because they knew the fans didn’t lose faith.

That wonderful state of affairs was expressed perfectly by Elliot Lee (pictured right) when he spoke of the growth in his self-confidence following his move to Wrexham on the “Flying High and Flying Free” podcast last year.

He explained how fear of making a mistake affected his judgement in the past, leading to an over-conservative approach. He was in the team to create, but wasn’t playing the killer passes because they were risky and keeping possession was a much less dangerous route.

At Wrexham, with the crowd palpably believing in him, those inhibitions were gone. He backed himself to play the brave passes because he knew they would applaud his attempts to influence the game.

That’s what a remarkable crowd can do for a player. The adrenaline surge from the fans played a major role in our phenomenal home record.

Consider our home league record in the last two seasons: we enjoyed our best run of wins since joining the EFL in 1921 (and second-longest of all time), then immediately equalled our fifth best run, then fell one win short of the fifth best sequence again!

That last run ended at the hands of Bradford City a fortnight ago, also ending a club record run of consecutive home league games scored in.

The Bradford game felt worryingly different. Having suffered three consecutive losses before the match, the crowd was strangely edgy, frustrated by early mistakes, and the team were not quite themselves.

It was an unsettling afternoon. We were used to home fixtures being more of a ritual than a contest. The opposition would audaciously set foot in our arena, and be summarily devastated for their impudence.

Trailing at half time? No problem. The fans had seen us pull things round so often that the atmosphere didn’t suffer. The crowd did its thing and patiently waited for the players to respond.

Likewise, if we needed a late goal to claim victory we didn’t panic; we expected it to come. Think back to how it felt when we beat Sutton at The Racecourse: they put up a hell of a fight, but ultimately there didn’t really feel like there was much doubt that we’d claim the win. It might be a surprise to realise that Lee’s winning goal didn’t come until the 89th minute! It felt routinely inevitable that we’d get a winner, even when time had almost run out.

But the edges of that supreme feeling of confidence had unravelled by the start of the Bradford game. There was a nervousness in the air which could easily have grown into full-blown anxiety.

And the goal didn’t come. I’ve been surprised by how many people have told me they thought the performance was awful: it certainly wasn’t, but we did lack the courage in our convictions which we usually display. A goal suddenly didn’t feel inevitable, and the crowd couldn’t provide that belief which had become a regular occurrence because they also doubted we’d score.

The result was a performance that lacked conviction in the box and a late winner for the visitors. They’d come to our patch and done to us what we usually do to our opponents.

That’s why it was such a relief to see the synergy fully restored against Notts County. With hindsight, maybe raising ourselves for a clash with our new rivals was exactly what was needed. Having battled to an ugly but priceless win at Sutton in midweek, the dent had been partially knocked out of our confidence, and both crowd and team arrived ready to roll.

The prolific goal-monster Macaulay Langstaff was presented with an easy chance in the opening seconds, superbly repelled by Arthur Okonkwo; the crowd didn’t flinch. County dominated possession; the fans didn’t panic. They could see that we were holding them comfortably at arm’s length.

Then came a perfectly-timed beauty from Steven Fletcher.

Faith had been fully restored, and the cacophony in the second half as we went for the jugular was thrilling.

It was surpassed at the final whistle, though. As we completed a massive victory, the noise was remarkable. Ex-County striker Jim Stallard said on Radio Nottingham that it felt like Wrexham had just won promotion again, and he was right. We rekindled a precious flame last Saturday: long may it remain alight.

We’ve only played Gillingham twice this century, winning at home both times, but a trip to Kent has tended to be challenging for us. We conceded nine goals in our last two games at Priestfield, and let in four or more in three of our last five games there.

The last time we kept a clean sheet at Gillingham was 10 games ago, in April 1978, and in our last 13 games there, stretching back to 1974, we’ve won one, drawn three and lost the rest.

However, when you step back and look at the big picture, we’ve actually got a surprisingly good record at Gillingham.

Overall, we’ve won five, drawn four and lost seven there.