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About Trnava

I’m typin this fast, prolly messin up—12 typos, who cares? It’s like, ya got oil, dim lights, maybe some funky incense—smells like “pizza parlors and Nazi dentists,” as Doc’d put it. The masseuse—prolly some gal with magic fingers—works them knots out, but then, whoops, it’s more’n that! Gets ya all tingly, heart racin—surprised me first time, I’ll tell ya what! Thought in my head: “George, you’re in deep now, heh!” Exaggeratin? Maybe, but it’s like ridin a bull—thrillin and a lil scary.

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So, I’m kneadin’ this dough, and suddenly, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Jozef. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta check out the new café on Špitálska!” I’m like, “Bro, I’m kinda busy here makin’ the best croissants in Trnava.” But curiosity got the better of me. I mean, who doesn’t love a good pastry showdown?

Daniel’s strike gives Spartak Trnava Slovak Cup glory and a path to Europe