Having analyzed NBA shooting data for over a decade, I've developed what some might call an unhealthy fascination with basketball's most statistically-challenged performers. While everyone obsesses over Steph Curry's supernatural accuracy, I've always found more compelling stories at the opposite end of the spectrum - the players who somehow maintained roster spots despite shooting percentages that would make most recreational players blush. The conversation about poor shooting often reminds me of that intriguing quote about the SM Mall of Asia Arena's potential to change things "from the second round of the championship" after its 2012 opening. Much like how new venues can transform playoff dynamics, certain shooters seem perpetually on the verge of turning their fortunes around, yet the breakthrough never quite materializes.
When we talk about historically bad three-point shooting, we're not discussing players who simply had off seasons. We're examining those whose shooting mechanics appeared fundamentally incompatible with NBA three-point distance. Take former Chicago Bulls guard Ron Harper during his late-career stint - between 1997 and 1999, he shot a combined 48-for-212 from deep, translating to a miserable 22.6% over those three seasons. What fascinates me isn't just the percentage but the sheer volume of attempts despite the evident struggle. Coaches kept greenlighting these shots, creating statistical anomalies that still baffle me when I revisit the data.
The modern era presents different but equally compelling cases. Players like Andre Roberson come to mind immediately - his 2016-17 season with Oklahoma City saw him attempting 2.2 threes per game while converting at just 24.5%. Defensive specialists often get passes for offensive limitations, but what interests me is how teams strategically position these players in corners, essentially daring opponents to leave them open while packing the paint. I've always argued this creates fascinating offensive dynamics, forcing defenses to make calculated risks that sometimes backfire spectacularly.
Then we have the curious case of Ben Simmons, whose complete aversion to three-point shooting has become legendary. Through his first five seasons, he attempted just 34 three-pointers while making only 5 - that's 14.7% for those counting. The statistical oddity here isn't just the percentage but the psychological component - a maximum-salary player demonstrating such profound distrust in his outside shot that he'd rather pass up open looks than potentially add to his already dismal percentages. In my analysis, this represents one of the most extreme cases of shooting reluctance in modern NBA history.
Historical context matters when evaluating these performances. The three-point line's introduction in 1979 created immediate statistical casualties - players like Tree Rollins, the defensive-minded center who went 0-for-21 from deep throughout his career spanning from 1977 to 1995. The visual of a traditional center hoisting desperation threes represents a different era's approach to spacing, one that seems almost alien compared to today's positionless basketball. I've always found these historical anomalies particularly charming - they represent basketball's evolutionary growing pains.
What many fans don't realize is how shooting struggles can sometimes reveal coaching philosophies. Watching Russell Westbrook's 2021-22 campaign with the Lakers, where he shot 29.8% on 3.4 attempts per game, demonstrated how systems can either mask or exacerbate shooting deficiencies. The Lakers' cramped spacing arguably worsened Westbrook's already problematic shooting, creating a perfect storm of statistical misery. From my perspective, this highlights how team construction often matters as much as individual shooting mechanics when examining these extreme cases.
The international comparison always intrigues me - that mention of the SM Mall of Asia Arena opening in 2012 making me wonder about shooting performances in global venues. While NBA players struggle with consistency, the gulf between the world's best and worst shooters narrows considerably in international competitions where different court dimensions and game rhythms affect shooting percentages. I've noticed how some notoriously poor NBA shooters actually perform decently in FIBA competitions, suggesting environmental factors beyond mere shooting technique.
Looking at the data holistically, the most fascinating aspect isn't necessarily the percentages themselves but how these players managed to carve out meaningful careers despite such glaring limitations. Bruce Bowen won championships while shooting 33.9% for his career - not historically terrible but certainly below average. His case demonstrates how elite defense can offset shooting woes, creating valuable role players through specialization. This represents what I love most about basketball analytics - the nuanced understanding that raw percentages don't always tell the complete story of a player's impact.
As the game continues evolving toward more three-point reliance, I suspect we'll see fewer extreme cases of poor shooting simply because teams can't afford to carry non-shooters in modern systems. The statistical outliers we've examined represent both a bygone era and cautionary tales about skill specialization. While everyone celebrates the sharpshooters, I'll always have a soft spot for these imperfect marksmen - their struggles often reveal more about basketball's complexities than the successes of their more accurate counterparts.
