Original subtitles

When three years ago my husband passed away because of a heart attack,

nothing could make me suspect that soon my only

son would have known the infamy of destiny.

A trivial fall during a football game deprived him

forever of the use of his legs and his virility.

Poor my love.

His existence is now reduced to looking and looking at

the photos of the only brief happy moments of his life.

Good evening.

Welcome.

How are you?

Good.

And you, ma'am?

Hello.

Look how you've grown up.

You've become a real lady now.

Mr. Di Maio is an old client of my pension.

Yes, I forgot to tell you that the only satisfactions that life offers me come

from the management of a small hotel located in Campo Liveri, a tiny fraction

of the countryside, which has the advantage of hosting the retreat of Rome,

because here the players can train in absolute tranquility.

Almost all my clients are made up of relatives of the players or simple

enthusiasts who come to follow the training of their own team of the heart.

Naturally, my son is also a great fan of Rome and he has

furnished me with the whole hotel of yellow-red scarves.

He often wears one too, because he likes that people know that even a disabled

person can be an ultra, with a heart full of passion for his own team.

Hey, what are you doing?

Aren't you ready yet?

Look, the training will start in a while and you know

that your brother cares about us, that we are punctual.

Listen, dad, I've followed you all the way here, but please don't show me the

football fields, because I can't take it anymore, got it?

Then next time stay at home to study without making too many stories, all right?

So, ma'am, I'm leaving.

Here are the keys.

The training is already starting tonight.

Yes, yes.

They're in a hurry.

Let's just hope they can win the game.

There shouldn't be any problems.

They are very strong in training.

They'll do it.

I have a favor to ask you.

My daughter didn't want to go out.

Please, give me a look.

You know, she's still a girl.

Don't worry.

It's as if she were at home.

Everything that happens in the hotel never goes unnoticed in my son's eyes,

because even if he seems like an introverted

person, in reality, he is a curious impenitent.

No.

Take a walk.

No, please, no.

No.

Don't insist.

Come on, I'll take you.

My father could come back.

You made me come all the way here to have to go home.

I told you to speak quietly.

What might make you smile now, has made me cry many times.

The relationships my son often has with a ridiculous rubber

doll, are nothing more than all his inner desolation.

Forza Roma!

Good evening.

Welcome back.

Always magical.

How are you?

My wife.

Ah, very happy, ma'am.

Mr. Pizzi is really one of the strangest customers I've ever met.

For a few years, he has been coming to follow

the team's training, spying on a great fan.

In reality, a common friend of mine has entrusted me that he is an ultra-faggot

from Lazio, and loves to attend the retreat of Rome just to spy on Gioffo's tactics.

A little spy, in short.

This time, he has come to meet us with his wife and the Filipino waitress.

I hope so.

You know, yesterday I saw you while I was in the room with your boyfriend.

I think that if your father came to know about it, he wouldn't be very happy.

If my father knew something like that, he would kill me.

I hope you don't want to tell him.

No.

I don't intend to tell him.

But... I would like you to do me a favor.

What kind of favor?

Nothing in particular.

It's been a long time since I've been able to use my legs.

I have a wish.

I would like...

I would like to see you dance.

Just for me.

Well, if that's all, there's no problem.

When my son raises the volume of the music,

it's a clear signal to tell me to stay away.

I don't have to leave at all The car rolls up outside on time A moment from your call

A handshake seems more fitting than a kiss It's such a shame that you and I should

have to end like this Let me just sit down and talk it

over Surely you could ask the best way The second sentence.

My joy, I have a wonderful surprise for you.

What, mother?

Do you know who I just finished talking to?

Tell me, who?

With your favorite player, Karim Romario Olze.

He will stay here in the hotel for a couple of days.

Excuse me for a moment.

Go!

Excuse me for disturbing you, I'm going out.

Here are the keys.

As usual, my daughter stayed in the room and didn't want to go out.

I don't want to be repetitive.

Give her a look, please.

Don't worry, she made friends with my son.

Let's see how they get along.

They look like two little angels.

This can only please me.

Actually, I knew I was lying.

But every mother is willing to do anything for the good of her children.

Good evening.

Oh, good evening.

How are you?

How are you?

My wife remembers you.

And here is Mr. Caruso.

He has arrived at his annual appointment.

He defines himself as a repentant Neapolitan, because since he moved to

Rome, he has begun to act for the Giallorossa team, forgetting his origins.

However, he is a very kind and discreet person,

always in the company of his beautiful wife.

Good evening.

I have a appointment.

Oh, what an honor to see you.

May I shake your hand?

Certainly, ma'am, with great pleasure.

He is Mr. De Silva, my attorney.

Very pleased.

Pleasure.

So?

Listen, may I ask you for a favor?

Well, this depends.

If it is not about money, it is not a problem.

Maurizio, look who is here.

Hello, my friend.

Karim, you are the greatest.

How are you?

Mom, mom, listen.

Take a nice picture of us.

Oh, sure, sure.

Smile a little.

Come on.

Nothing in the world could give a bigger smile to my son.

And his joy transmitted to me an irresistible desire to continue to live.

I can not accept the offer of that sponsor.

They always try to speculate without any reason.

Oh my God!

I'm wrong.

Are you Karim Romario Olse?

Yes.

I can tell you that in my opinion you are the greatest football player in the world.

Perhaps.

I could steal you a moment to take a picture with you.

Yes, no problem.

Can I?

Sure.

Are you sure?

I told you yes.

Just a moment, then.

Ah, what are you doing here?

Do you know who Karim Romario is?

I asked him if I could take a picture with him.

Where is the camera?

Listen, let's try to understand each other.

A Roma player does not photograph even if they kill me.

Now try to disappear and leave me alone.

Is that clear?

Do you know that you disgust me?

When you talk like this, you would only deserve to be left immediately,

you ugly bastard.

Fuck off.

Fuck off.

Do you like the abbacchio?

Yes, it's very good.

Cooked in the oven with potatoes.

It is one of the dishes of the Roman cuisine that I prefer.

Give me some sugar.

Thank you.

I believe that the Roman cuisine is the best in the world.

When I happen to go abroad for work, I always try to find an Italian restaurant.

All those crap they eat, I can not digest them.

Imagine once in Germany they served me a shrimp cocktail with pieces of pineapple.

I immediately called the waiter and made him bring it back.

Yes.

No, really, not at all.

But what are you doing?

Are you hypnotized?

Do you know the education?

As often happens when there is an important person,

grudges and jealousy reemerge with great ease.

And while my son continued to cultivate his sympathy towards Miss Mayo,

who now seemed to have become an irreplaceable playmate,

he was about to realize something extremely important.

Something extremely embarrassing, which, of

course, required the utmost discretion on my part.

The great international football superstar seemed in fact to have pointed to the

little Filipino waitress, while her attorney did not take her eyes off Mrs.

Pizzi, who did not understand if she was more dry from having fought with her

husband or from the fact that Karim preferred her to her waitress.

Listen, ma'am, I was in the room, my wife is not there.

Did you see her by chance?

No, I'm sorry.

If I were to see her, I would tell her that you are looking for her.

All right, thank you.

Now everyone in the hotel had gone to rest, with the exception of Mr.

Caruso, who, by a fortunate coincidence, found himself becoming one of the

protagonists of the strangest night of my memory.

Excuse me, perhaps I am disturbing you.

No, sit down, come and have a glass with us.

My wife is waiting for me.

Come on, just a minute, please.

But if you insist...

You are wonderful.

So, as far as I can see, you haven't wasted your time.

Yes.

You are so beautiful.

How beautiful you are.

You are...

Yes, like this, with the tongue.

Yes, like this, I like it.

Yes, like this, touch yourself.

Yes, like this.

Yes, like this, touch yourself.

Yes, like

this, touch yourself.

Yes, like this, touch yourself.

I like it.

Even faster, come on.

Yes, like this.

What a cool voice.

Yes, like this.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes, like this.

Yes, like this, touch yourself.

Yes.

Yes, like this.

yes, a little of that.

Come on!

That night, in the hotel, the doors of the rooms were closing one after the other.

But I had to pretend that everything was going as normal.

No way.

Oh, please, Michael, this is it.

Wake up!

Wake up!

Oh God!

Oh my God!

Yes.

Hi.

Disturbance.

You never disturb, ma'am.

I feel really at ease.

How did it go with the player?

Good.

Good.

Do you think I have any chance?

Maybe...

It's possible.

Let's try.

Do we disturb?

No.

I'm glad you came.

Now let's play a little game.

Let's stay calm.

No.

No.

It's not a game.

I knew it.

I know how to play.

I lose.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

You are beautiful.

What happened that night seemed to awaken

the most bestial instincts of all the guests.

Mr. Caruso, who shared a comfortable room with his wife, preferred to stay with her

in the dining room, where he was naturally carefully watched by my son.

So... I am in peace...

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

The week went by and Sunday was approaching.

It was Sunday, the day when for my son there was nothing

but the news of the match that Rome would have disputed.

Come on, come on, come on!

Come on, Massa, come on!

Come on, come on!

Hey, come on!

Fuck off!

Fuck off, you and these shitty matches!

Come on, come on!

Come on, come on!

Come on, come on!

The passion that my son had for football led

him to neglect everything that surrounded him.

Without realizing it, he had also sacrificed his love for Mrs.

Di Maio, who soon gave him the greatest disappointment of his life.

Come on, don't cry...

Don't cry.

I want to do it.

I love you so much.

I'm going to get you off of me.

You know then... Goodbye!

Goodbye!

Goodbye!

Goodbye!

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

The football championship is over.

And Roma, thanks to the help of the super-champion Karim, has won the Scudetto.

The players are now on holiday and my hotel has ended

the season waiting for the team to resume the retreat.

Life is hard.

The season is resumed with the monotony of always.

Me with my crochet and my son with his photo album.

But something has changed deeply in him.

This year he has not celebrated the Scudetto of

the team and no longer wears his favorite scarf.

From his album has disappeared what he considered the most precious photograph.

He may have understood that the idols of fantasy are nothing more than the

projection of all that would not want to exist.

ged

car And we just sit down and talk it over.

Surely you can ask the... And we just sit down and talk it over.

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