100-year-old fan surprises De Laurentiis with a blue horn

Raffaela Marotta turned 100, and the bomboniera she chose for her birthday was a corno azzurro — a small blue horn, the Neapolitan charm against bad luck. She carried it to the stadium for Napoli-Frosinone, meant for one person: club president Aurelio De Laurentiis.

Mentioned again, at CONI

A few days later, De Laurentiis brought her up again at a ceremony at CONI (Italy's Olympic Committee) for the Collare d'Oro al Merito Sportivo. "The other day a hundred-year-old lady came to bring me a beautiful blue horn," he said.

When the club first phoned her, Marotta did not believe it. She assumed it was another prank by her grandchildren, who often ring just to tease her. Only when the real call came did one of them have to step in: "I've got nothing to do with this, believe me."

On the day of the match she almost stayed home, put off by the rain. "The president told me to always come, but when it rains I prefer not to go out," she said. She went anyway. Napoli won 3-0. Written next to the horn was the word "Napoli" — a good omen, she reckoned, "and indeed they scored three goals."

A lifetime of support

There is a lifetime behind that loyalty. Every birthday, Marotta follows the same ritual: she writes a letter and reads it out to the family, though only after her daughter Rosaria has checked it. The correction never quite holds — she adds a new line at every read-through.

She has firm views on the pitch, too. She has a soft spot for Vergara, "that young lad who plays well," and none at all for head coach Allegri.

He doesn't convince me. It seems like he can't give the team security, right up to the 90th minute.

Her Napoli support began when she was engaged: her husband went to the stadium, she didn't. With five children to raise, she chose Napoli anyway, and made sure they all supported the club too. The same goes for the wider family, with one exception that still irritates her — her niece's husband supports Milan. Fair enough, she says, that he follows his own team, except that he leaves whenever Napoli are playing. "It's not right," she says.

Asked for a photo, she straightens up and smiles. But before she lets the photographer go, she wants one guarantee: "Can I see how I came out?"