In Remembrance: A letter for Nonna Linda

The club recently received this letter from Francesca De Santis, a Roma fan who lives in Turin. She sent it to us on behalf of her closest relatives, in memory of a very special fan of the club - and beloved member of their family.

We reprint it here, with their permission...

To our magical AS Roma,

I’m writing to you because last Monday, November 2nd, we lost a piece of Rome - and I lost a piece of my heart.

My grandmother, my nonna Linda, the founder and first president of Roma Club “Donne in Giallorosso” ('Women in Yellow-and-Red'), has died at the age of 90, departing arm-in-arm with Gigi Proietti on one side and Sean Connery on the other.

She also left us on the anniversary of the death of Pierpaolo Pasolini, who was one of her favourite writers - on account of his deep love for Rome, from the city centre to its more authentic, working-class neighbourhoods.

My grandmother had a strong, visceral love for this city; every bit of it, in all its light and darkness.

She loved its history and its stories, but – most of all – she loved its only real football team and the beautiful colours they play in.

For my grandmother, who was born in Borgo Pio and grew up in Garbatella, Roma wasn’t just a passion. It was a faith, and that – as the mantra of all Roma fans says – is something you don’t question, you just love.

This faith is surely one of the things that allowed her to live such a full life, packed with joy, hope, frustration, anticipation… Despite her advancing years and the limitations imposed on her by the harsh grip of old age, this faith was what gave her happiness until the very end.

“I’m still me, the same as I always was,” she would say.

On 24 November 1994, in an opticians in Garbatella, this love for Roma – which my grandmother shared with some friends – led to the creation of Roma Club “Donne in Giallorosso”, the first-ever Roma fan club set up exclusively for women.

The club’s committee was made up exclusively of women, where each member held a position that reflected their skills and interests. It was a place where housewives, grandmothers, young girls – women, of all backgrounds – could come together to indulge their passion in a place reserved just for them.

My grandmother led the club on away trips to support Roma across Europe, and to the pre-season training base in Predazzo to run the rule over the summer preparations.

With each passing day, she debunked the antiquated theory that football was a man’s game.

For Nonna Linda, her fan club – and Roma itself – was a way for her to break free from her role of a mother to three children (she was widowed at a young age) and rediscover her independence and her ability to create something amazing.

You see, for my grandmother, Roma wasn’t just a faith – it was redemption.

Everyone has a story about my Nonna Linda and Roma. The way she used to throw salt on the ground in the Curva Sud to ward off bad luck. The way she’d pray – her language at times a little more colourful than you might expect – as the car went past St. Peter’s on the way to the Olimpico.

The old Roman songs and chants she’d recite as she climbed the stairs on her way back from school. The smell of the pasta sauce cooking as the radio played, always tuned to one of the Roma stations.

The times she would simply call me up to discuss whatever was the latest development at the club, signing off as ever with: “Could you hear me OK, love?”

The Scudetto title we won back from Lazio in 2001 was the only one my grandmother and I experienced together. I still have the piece of Olimpico turf she brought me: she’d stuck a flag into it made from a toothpick and some paper in the colours of the Italian flag with the words: “Roma, Champions of Italy 2000-01”.

The grass has all but gone now, but the flag is still there – a reminder of the joy we, the fans, were lucky enough to experience.

Despite the fact that she was unable to go to the stadium much in her latter years, my grandmother always renewed her season ticket.

“That way the club can buy good players,” she would say.

You can imagine her surprise and joy when, earlier this year, during the first wave of COVID-19, she received a package from Roma Cares containing some essentials for season-ticket holders over the age of 75. Pasta, flower, the traditional Colomba Pasquale Easter bread, jams and a Roma scarf, of course.

We spoke on the phone that day.

“Hi love, Roma have sent a package just for me! That’s right, for me, while Arnaldo [another fan who used to go to the stadium with her] didn’t get one, because he doesn’t have a season ticket anymore! There’s loads of stuff in it, do you want to come and get it?”

“No, nonna, we can’t go out. I’m in Turin, anyway, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to come down.”

“OK, well if there’s any left when you come and see me, we’ll have it together.”

Now Nonna Linda has left us forever, surrounded by the love and affection of all of Garbatella, her season ticket and club scarf tucked safely under her pillow.

She was an extraordinary woman who loved and taught us so much. As was said at her funeral the other day, Nonna Linda didn’t live her life at walking pace. Her life was an endless sprint… just like you might expect from her beloved Roma on any given weekend.

Now all that’s left are the many memories she gave us. It might feel like we’ve lost her right now, but that’s not really true. Because, as she always loved to say, "Chi tifa Roma nun perde mai."

Those who cheer for Roma never really lose.

Ciao Nonna Linda, we love you so much.

Your family