No matter how thoroughly you try to quantify it, player development is a mystery.

Some players develop early and burn out; some take a while to fulfil their potential. Some find their level and stick there, but others flourish as they rise to the tests posed by higher quality challenges.

Ryan Barnett is clearly in the last category. The way he has adapted as we’ve climbed up the leagues is eye-catching.

We’re only part of the way along our intended journey, and Phil Parkinson has shown that he must be ruthless to ensure our continued progress.

There’s no doubt the likes of Luke Young and Ben Tozer would be able to do a good job in League One, but “a good job” is not what we’re aiming for: Parkinson is constantly looking to evolve and bring in players that will excel at the next level.

Barnett’s place in the squad is secure though. The way he has raised his game at every step up the pyramid has been exhilarating.

He got four assists in his first half-season with us in the National League, after a lengthy bedding-in period on the training ground; he made five assists last season and he already has six in this campaign, three coming last Saturday.

Assists are quixotic statistics, of course. If you run through the opposition and lay a great chance on a plate, but it’s missed, you don’t get any credit.

Ask Barnett: he did that on Saturday but was denied a fourth assist as Stephen Fletcher hesitated long enough for a superb goal-saving block to foil him.

He has the equal most assists in the division, and has delivered the fourth most crosses in League One this season, a third of the total he managed last season.

Remarkable progression and achievement, I’m sure you’ll agree. Saturday was a magnificent illustration of how he continues to develop at a thrilling pace.

The quality of his crossing is terrific, he can beat a man or bend a wicked cross in from a deeper position, Beckham-style.

Barnett’s efforts on Saturday place him amongst the most special performances I’ve witnessed by a Wrexham player. I don’t mean the eye-catching heroics, like Gary Bennett stepping up to the plate and scoring both goals to clinch promotion in 1992, or Mickey Thomas’ glorious free kick against Arsenal, glorious as they were.

I’m thinking more of the mundane, workaday fixtures which are unexpectedly illuminated by a player absolutely hitting the top of their game.

It’s such a joy to see a performance like that unfold over the course of 90 minutes: the slowly dawning realisation that a player is taking control of a game and the excitement as they go on in similar fashion.

I felt that way when, after a bright start, Barnett continued to run at the poor, bewildered Northampton full back Liam McCarron.

It was cruel but thrilling to know that Barnett had the beating of him, that Northampton weren’t adapting to prevent their team-mate being isolated against a player who was absolutely flying, and that he’d keep doing it again and again.

McCarron was subbed at half time, a humanitarian gesture by the Northampton manager which the rest of this cruel world should reflect on.

Barnett’s unselfish approach reminded me of an incredible performance in 2002, when Lee Jones matched the club record for most goals scored in a league game, sticking five past Cambridge United.

However, brilliant as he was, it’s not Jones’ epic feat I’m referring to, but that of his strike partner Andy Morrell!

Morrell provided all five assists for Jones in a herculean effort of self-sacrifice. It was a bravura performance and he’d be repaid by the football gods for his generosity the next season when the goals came his way to the extent that he was top scorer in the top four divisions!

Another uncelebrated afternoon of excellence, this time by a largely forgotten player rather than a legend like Morrell, came in a soggy FA Trophy tie at Southport in 2015.

Jon Flatt, a goalkeeper on loan from Wolves, didn’t hang around for long, making just seven appearances for us in total. Amongst them, though, were a brave effort in the FA Cup at Stoke, and that glorious display at Southport.

In murky conditions (it always seems to be murky at Haig Avenue, even when the floodlights are on), Flatt repelled shot after shot from the home strikers. He was a man possessed, and although we ought to have lost heavily, Flatt’s magnificence kept us in the competition.

Ultimately, we wished he hadn’t as we reached Wembley only to fritter away a winning position and suffer humiliation at the hands of North Ferriby United, a club whose moment of glory was so fleeting that four years after experiencing a trophy lift at the world’s most prestigious football venue, they had gone out of business!

I can’t see a potential down-side to Barnett’s magnificent Saturday, so as far as I’m concerned I can’t wait for him to do it again!