The Sombor Shuffle (or, The Merits of Slowness)

I am making a pilgrimage.

To a quiet place. A place of legend. Where few travelers ever go.

And, via train — my favorite! Except… this train. This train must be cursed. It must be the slowest on Earth. I didn’t expect the Serbian rail network to be the Shinkansen, but I get the idea that I could outrun this piece of metal if I tried hard enough.

Huh. Maybe I just discovered the origin of the Sombor Shuffle.

The European rail network. How I’ve missed you!

Lord knows I write and speak often of my love for the train.

Whether that love stems from a lack of airport security and the ability to bring a cheap bottle of wine along for the ride or something deeper, like the psycho-cultural merits of slow travel, doesn’t really matter.

In this case, both apply.

When you are American, or at least from the northeast, it is tangibly anxiety-producing to move slowly. While I’ve “slowed” significantly since my Manhattan days, I also recognize that the stinging urge for timeliness and efficiency will never fully leave me. At least not for a long, long time. (See: the San Diego Americano Incident).

But being outside of the northeast for a large part of the previous years, I have seen the merit, and indeed, acquired a fondness for the languorous.

Moving slowly doesn’t have to mean laziness, or lethargy. It can even be a good thing!

There is no better example than none other than Serbia’s finest, Sombor’s own: Nikola Jokić.

For the NBA-averse, Jokić is known for his unique pace of play, that is to say, slow. Slower than most in today’s era of basketball. I’m no expert, but I will say that the more Nuggets basketball I watch, the more I see it. He quite literally slows down the game — the whole dang thing — and it confuses other players.

They’re running around like, trying to make sure their corners are covered, while he’s jogging down the court and uh oh! They don’t notice he’s already two plays ahead and then, step, step, step —

— a shot. And another. And another.

Thus, the Sombor Shuffle was born. And “awkward but effective” one-legged version of a fadeaway which Jok developed after hurting his left ankle back in 2017.

And 6 All-Stars, 3 MVPs and 1 championship later, his slowness is still what shines.

—

Don’t they say that people who walk slowly live longer? (And who are “they”?)

Eating more slowly is healthier, “they” also say. (In this case, scientists.) It helps with digestion.

What about 100-year old tortoises? They’re slow. They must be pretty damn wise, no?

The Tortoise and the Hare! “Slow and steady wins the race.”

That guy knew his slowness — his steadfastness — was not a crutch, but a strength.

And why?

My guess is that he’s seen some things.

Not just because he’s 100 years old, but because slowness allows for seeing. For people like Jokić (and tortoises, presumably) to register things that others don’t.

On this ancient Serbian train, I have seen: