The 10 Lamest Sports-Themed TV Shows

Original Airing: 2006-2010

When Pros vs. Joes debuted in '06, it pitted mouthy substitute teachers against down-on-their-luck professional athletes with the grating, but effective commentary of Petros Papadakis. The show's premise of breaking off arrogant weekend warriors with no hand-eye coordination was awesome. It's was something we could relate to. We've all balled with that douche in open gym, throwing elbows and talking shit. It was nice to see Bill Romanowski spear him to the turf in a particularly violent game of flag football. But the show's overhaul after a couple seasons ruined a once worthwhile franchise. 

Papadakis was replaced with the vomitus, wooden combination of Jay Glazer and Michael Strahan. The "Joes" have become former D-1 athletes who are a few years removed from competitions. And the "Pros" are typically Shawn Kemp-types, desperate for a pay check and zoning on methadone. Finally, the show relies on an absolutely ridiculous amount of replays and recaps. Seriously. There's, maybe, nine minutes of actual in-game footage per hour-long episode. We didn't think it was possible, but finally there's a show too lame for SpikeTV.

Original Airing: 1993-present

Award shows in general are just lame excuses to stroke the egos of millionaires, but the ESPY's are an especially embarrassing example. First, athletes are already showered with awards, accolades, and—of course—enormous paychecks. Second, there's already a mechanism for deciding supremacy, they're called games. Tom Brady has three Super Bowl rings, two MVP trophies, and Gisele Bundchen—leave it to ESPN to sanctimoniously validate him with a fucking ESPY.

We can't understand how so many adults can keep a straight face with this sort of vapid pandering on a red carpet. The ESPYs are just a showy excuse for ESPN to kiss its own ass and contribute to the regretful notion that athletes are entertaining at whatever they do. It's why Dwight Howard thinks he's hilarious, David Ortiz think he's interesting, and why Lance Armstrong has such a profound God complex. If LeBron James, Phil Mickelson, or Reggie Bush had to rely on personality to make it in this world, they'd all be incredibly athletic rodeo clowns. Remember that, guys.

Original Airing: 2010-present

Audibles is like NFL Live, NFL Countdown, NFL 32, NFL Primetime, and the 30 other shield-related ESPN staples, only with no highlights, zero production value, and a gnawing reliance on Twitter. This show is seriously just four insufferable blowhards in a cigar lounge shouting about the Texans "getting back to the basics on defense" and the Raiders need to "establish a more consistent run game."

The partnership between ESPN and the NFL has systemically deprived any semblance of legitimate criticism or original thought from the purported news network. As a result, you get the year-long devotion to a sport that has a 16 game season. In sum, Audibles is four interchangeable suits who (minus Trent Dilfer) happened to be damn good NFL players and (including Trent Dilfer) are hopelessly boring to listen to. 

Original Airing: 2011-2012

VH1 has a laundry list of "Wives" shows that seem to be a personal affront to Jane Addams and a coordinated effort to reestablish a glass ceiling. Baseball Wives is the worst of the bunch, showcasing women as money hungry groupies who actually brag about sleeping with Nyjer Morgan. 

Original Airing: 2009-present

SportsNation has really just devolved into guessing what people said on surveys. It's like an afternoon edition of Family Feud, only Steve Harvey is a much more agreeable host than Colin Cowherd. The fact that this show has lasted three years is really a testament to how low the broadcasting standards are on ESPN2.

Let's be honest. Dan LeBatard gets away with doing his show from a fake kitchen with his senile dad. That's all you need to know, really. We watched because of our crush on Michelle Beadle, but she's moved on from revealing survey results on a lame sports show to demean herself with mindless celebrity gossip on Access Hollywood. If she's motivated enough to move on, you should too.

Original Airing: 2006-present

Friday Night Lights was a network drama that sports fans could get behind without feeling like saccharine losers. Season one was a rare, well-written reason to watch NBC during primetime. Unfortunately, Friday Night Lights never got the ratings it deserved and, foreseeably, underwent the lamest transformation in the history of television. What started off as the best sports drama we've ever seen, turned into a ridiculous, Under Armour sponsored adaptation of One Tree Hill. It's just like the small town high school football experience you had but with the quarterback's inexplicably dramatic transition to art school and his girlfriend's affair with a college professor.

Original Airing: 2002-present

We hate to say it, but Around the Horn's host, Tony Reali, deserves better. He does a yeoman's job of wrangling a clique of hackneyed sports reporters, while they desperately try to out-douche one another. Around the Horn is the capstone of ESPN's afternoon lineup of opinion shows. This one features four off-putting stiffs rehashing the same story lines SportsCenter's worked tirelessly to concoct over its nine consecutive repeats. 

Original Airing: 1994-present

There's nothing easier than producing an NFL pregame show. The formula from ESPN's NFL Sunday Countdown to CBS's The NFL Today is to get a bunch of painful buffoons, sit them at a desk, and have them crack wise about one another's golf games for an hour before kickoff. Fox NFL Sunday's in harmonious lockstep with the others, but with an especially egregious offshoot. The show's panel of so-called experts—which include Howie Long, Michael Strahan, Jimmy Johnson, and Terry Bradshaw—consistently pick games with incredibly pathetic inaccuracy. Through Week 6, Fox's broadcast team is 51-79 in picking straight up winning teams in the NFL's most obvious give-me games. That's 150 years of football-related experience used to predict winners at a success rate considerably lower than a coin flip.

Original Airing: 2007-present

E:60 claims to tell "the best stories in sports" but most of their packages are about children with rare bone diseases and LeSean McCoy Twitter beefs. The show's teary-eyed human interest pieces rarely have anything to do with athletics and their athlete profiles are often obnoxiously pretentious. E:60's recent feature "Perfect" told the story of a totally unhinged egomaniac who—to overcome the guilt of selfishly wanting to abort his daughter with Down Syndrome—vaingloriously pushes her around in a cart while he runs 5Ks. The piece was a totally repelling microcosm of the show: a melodramatic, not-really-sports-focused piece of trite, delivered by ESPN reporters desperately trying to win Pulitzers by making soccer moms cry. 

Original Airing: 2007-present

In a marketplace saturated with a kind of sports theater that features two dip-shits screaming at one another, you have to have an insanely low self-esteem to sit through an episode ESPN's First Take. After presumably shotgunning 40 ounce Red Bulls, two affected pundits hash up tired debate points about Tim Tebow and LeBron James with a seemingly focused effort towards be parodied on Saturday Night Live. Skip Bayless and Stephen A. Smith are basically whorish caricatures of themselves, emphatically arguing ludicrous positions solely for the purpose of being the most hated ESPN personality. We get it, guys. If you want to see a feeble grown bumble his way through a explanation as to why he exaggerated his high school basketball prowess, watch this.