Non-league football in Kent is a strange beast.

For the bulk of games, attendance figures are relatively paltry – and more often than not eclipsed by the number of football supporters in the locale catching trains and coaches to watch bigger teams, earlier that same day, doing battle in the capital.

They scrape by on the loyalty of the faithful few and volunteers.

Yet when the smell of success seeps from the stadiums into the community the slumbering support base is aroused.

And if you wish to bear witness to such an awakening you only to have to be in Whitstable today as the town’s football club hosts the first leg of the FA Vase semi-final.

You’ll not be able to get in, mind you, as it’s already an all-ticket, sell-out. Which is mighty impressive for a tournament open only to those in the lower echelons of the non-league pyramid.

But should the Oystermen triumph in front of the 2,800 crowd, they’ll be taking a giant stride towards stepping out on to the hallowed turf of Wembley Stadium for the final.

That is, by way of a guide, getting close to some 10% of the entire town’s population descending on its Belmont Road ground to witness the part-timers go head-to-head with the mighty, ahem, Hartpury University FC (no, I’ve never heard of them either).

Normally, on a match day, Whitstable pulls in between 300-400.

And while club bosses may ponder where all these thousands of dormant fans normally are, they should revel in the fact they are turning out when the club most needs them.

Because while your heart may be wedded to Manchester United, Liverpool or Arsenal, there is, frankly, nothing quite like cheering on the team which represents where you actually live. You don’t need to know the players’ names. You don’t need to know their form. All you need to know is that for 90 minutes they’ll be out on that pitch playing for the pride of your very own community. And that’s reason enough to get behind them.

Better still, some will get bitten by the bug and that average attendance be swollen – albeit, most likely, modestly.

Whitstable is far from alone in this phenomenon. Some 31 years ago I was lucky enough to attend two of the most thrilling football matches I’ve ever witnessed.

Ashford Town (they would, in later years, collapse before reborn as Ashford United) had pulled Fulham out of the hat in the first round of the FA Cup in 1994.

The average 300-odd crowd became ten times that figure for a game played in relentless pouring rain at the club’s Homelands in Kingsnorth.

Under normal circumstances, the game should never have taken place – the pitch a complete quagmire – but Sky had sent TV cameras (and none other than Martin ‘Aguerrrro’ Tyler to commentate) so it went ahead.

As the players slipped and slid around a puddle-strewn, sand-reinforced pitch and drenched fans wearing handed out disposable poncho raincoats cheered themselves hoarse, Ashford were nine minutes away from a famous 2-0 win before a couple of dubious penalties saw the now-Premier League (then Division Three) side claw a draw.

The replay, at Craven Cottage, was equally as dramatic – Ashford coming back from 2-0 down to draw 3-3 after 90 minutes before finally succumbing to defeat in extra time.

Nothing, in all the games I’ve attended since – FA Cup, Premier League, Champions League, internationals has ever come close to replicating the excitement of watching my then-home team in action.

So I wish Whitstable Town well – and just hope that memories are made today – safe in the knowledge that all of Kent (with the possible exception of Herne Bay) will be cheering you on.