When you think of the tiny Greek island of Zákinthos, otherwise known as Zante, I very doubt that you consider it to be a place where stories about football regularly spring from.
So, you may be just as surprised as me that I've actually come away from my first lads holiday with stories that I can just about qualify as relevant enough to be published on this here Bolton Wanderers fansite.
The tenuous link I can use here is that in one of the piss sodden bathrooms in a bar that was a regular stop on our alcohol fused walk to the strip - Lush, if you're reading lads - only went and had some Bolton graffiti on the wall. Something along the lines of "BWFC" in massive letters with "NLSWA" written underneath.
We've gone big time ladies and gents.
I have a couple more stories I feel compelled to share too, although none of the others quite have the same, interesting Bolton link as that.
One morning, well probably afternoon but we'd only just woken up, we were all sat around in the bar when one lad, Wazza, attempted to do kick ups with a fly away and managed a modest four. Out of no where the woman who worked behind the bar, Zoey, appeared and asked him to pass her the ball and he did.
He nonchalantly stood there awaiting for this mere woman to embarrasses her self with the ball at her feet, when suddenly she began to juggle the ball from foot-to-foot and then pulled out an around the world.
Wazza was wide eyed, we all were, as we cheered in amazement. Not that because a girl can play football or anything, it was just so unexpected and it showed Wazza up. Which is always worth a laugh.
As it transpires, Zoey used to play for the Greece national team before she had to quit to concentrate on her studies.
Zoey later went on to beat anyone in our group who challenged her at table tennis.
Now, I've saved the best until last. For those unaware - I'm
quite very shit at football.
So when I stumbled over, in a rather intoxicated state, to take a penalty on the strip in one of those games where if you score three goals you win a bottle of champagne, Wazza, Dal and everyone else were readying themselves for me to fuck it up in the most hilarious of ways.
Well, I only went and beautifully slotted the penalty home, completely flat footing the goalkeeper who no doubt had every possible advantage.
Whilst the penalty is certainly worthy of note and praise (it's now my personal footballing highlight), the actual aftermath of the spot kick is why I'm telling you about it. Just watch this, keep an eye on Dal in the light blue shirt:
If you didn't find that as funny as I did on everyone of the 267 times I've watched it, then there is something wrong with you.