In most parts of the footballing world, contracts are signed in boardrooms. Huge wooden tables surrounded by club crests, glass cabinets and empty chairs provide the rinse-and-repeat setting for all – from academy graduates to first-team stars. In Naples they do things a little differently. They sign them in restaurants. Well, one in particular to be exact. 

Making your way to Cicciotto a Marechiaro, it’s easy to see why it’s such a firm favourite with Napoli, its players and staff. For one, it’s a ball-ache to reach. Nestled away discreetly in the Gulf of Naples, it’s almost impossible to stumble upon by chance. Like a speakeasy in central London – if you can find it, you can come in. Only don’t bet on finding it. 

The location on the Marechiaro bay makes it the perfect spot for a lunch or a dinner uninterrupted by selfie requests and fixed gazes. Luciano Spalletti was a regular while Napoli manager. Antonio Conte has been spotted visiting with his family, too. Stars past and present post pictures of catch-ups within its four walls on a regular basis.

It is their little sanctuary, and the locals do their best to keep its secrets for their heroes. 

A trip from the city centre involves an hour of trains, buses and hiking. The first leg is affirming enough, the metro to Mostra dropping you right outside the Diego Maradona stadium. The next step is to get on the right bus. 

At the station at the bottom of Piazzale Tecchio, the driver of the C1 assures me I’m about to get on the wrong coach, sending me to the other side of the square. 

A quick check on CityMapper suggests I’ve already missed my ride and might need to wait another 40 minutes for the next, unless I head it off on the other side of the piazzale. Rushing to the next stop in the early October sun, I arrive just in time to see the bus approaching on the horizon. As it stops there’s a familiar face at the helm. It turns out I’d been trying to board the right one all along, a fact acknowledged by the driver’s sheepish grin.

A winding 20-minute journey follows, climbing the Neapolitan coastline by Coroglio, around steep bends more associated with Amalfi and the other side of the Gulf. 

After being dropped off at the top of the cliff, the final stage of the journey is a descent back down towards the coast on foot. A meandering road, bordered by high stone walls and metal gates hiding the homes behind them, leads you slowly down to the front. So slowly that any ideas of filming a time-lapse of the journey are quashed by my phone’s ailing battery. These deserted, winding streets are not a place to be left without your only navigational tool. 

Eventually the water comes into view, a different shade of blue to the one that overloads the senses at every turn back in the calcio-daft city centre. 

A turn to the left reveals the restaurant sat on the waterfront – the distant hills of Sorrento just about visible in one direction, the towering presence of Vesuvius a little easier to pick out in the other.

Cicciotto’s kitchen was first opened more than 80 years ago, a fact it wears with pride in its full title – Cicciotto a Marechiaro dal 1942. Its menu is crammed with every seafood dish imaginable, and backed up by an open fish counter displaying the fresh produce available from the morning’s delivery. 

It’s the first sight you’re greeted with as you enter the restaurant. The black, blue and white tiles surrounding the display then give way to beach hut vibes as you move further into the restaurant. Bamboo canes cover the roof accompanied by wicker lampshades and banana trees populate the path through the white-cloth-covered tables to the inner sanctum, where most of the establishment’s more recognisable customers are afforded their privacy. 

It’s the mix of the relaxed and the exotic that leads diners to spend hours at a time enjoying the surroundings – some of Napoli’s biggest names among them. There is no background music, only the murmur of private discussions and the noise of the sea below. 

Occasionally, the tranquility is pierced by the resident tenor. Giovanni is 85 and as much a part of the experience as the food on the plate – which on this occasion is a courgette linguini followed by Fritto di Paranza. 

His impromptu renditions of Neapolitan classics are part of the charm that draws in locals and distinguished guests alike. They’ve even afforded him starring roles in the Instagram stories of Italy’s World Cup winning captain Fabio Cannavaro.

On this day he’s decided the weather is good enough to take his repertoire outside. Having been offered the last table on the terrace, I’ve got a front-row seat. 

My view comes courtesy of the waiters whose interest has been piqued by a British accent infiltrating the coast at this time of day at this time of year. The revelation that the accent is Scottish comes with an invitation to come inside and meet the boss. 

Vincenzo Capuano has been running the business with his brother Gianluca since taking over from their father. 

He sits in a small control hub in the middle of the restaurant, a three-sided white desk with a wall to his back. He’s thumbing through the various covers taken during another busy lunch period. 

After a few words in his ear from one of his staff, Vincenzo’s eyes light up. He has something to share. He scrolls through the camera roll on his phone before stopping on the image of him shoulder to shoulder with one of his most recent clients. 

“Scott McTominay! Two days ago!” He grins as he relays the information in broken English. I’ve missed Scotland’s talisman – Napoli’s new No 8 – by just 48 hours. 

Suddenly the banks burst as a river of information streams out from my hosts. Names are reeled off. Not just footballers but acting royalty too – Gary Oldman, Giancarlo Esposito. 

There’s more. “That table,”, one waiter points over my right shoulder. “That’s where Dries Mertens signed his new contract. Right here.”

By now the floodgates are wide open. The secrets are well and truly out.