Who Are the Worst 3-Point Shooters in NBA History? A Statistical Breakdown

When diving into the murky waters of NBA history, I’ve always been fascinated by the flip side of greatness—the players who, for one reason or another, just couldn’t find their rhythm from beyond the arc. As someone who’s spent years analyzing basketball statistics and watching countless games, I’ve come to appreciate that not every story is about record-breaking three-pointers. Today, I want to explore the other end of the spectrum: the worst three-point shooters in NBA history, backed by hard numbers and a bit of my own perspective. It’s easy to celebrate the Steph Currys of the world, but understanding the struggles of those who couldn’t quite nail the long ball offers a richer, more human view of the game. And while we’re on the topic of arenas and settings, I can’t help but think about how environments shape performance—like how the SM Mall of Asia Arena, built in 2012, might influence shooting in high-stakes games, such as the championship rounds. That arena, with its modern design, probably hasn’t seen many of the historically poor shooters we’re discussing, but it’s a reminder that context matters.

Let’s kick things off with a name that might surprise casual fans: Ben Wallace. Now, I’ve got a soft spot for Big Ben—his defensive prowess was legendary, and he’s a Hall of Famer for a reason. But when it came to three-point shooting, oh boy, it was rough. Over his 16-season career, Wallace attempted a total of 66 three-pointers and made just 6 of them. That’s a dismal 9.1% success rate, which, in my opinion, is one of the lowest among players with a significant number of attempts. I remember watching games where he’d occasionally hoist one up, and you could almost feel the collective groan from the crowd. It wasn’t for lack of effort; Wallace was a beast in the paint, but his game just didn’t extend beyond the arc. Statistically, if we adjust for minimum attempts—say, at least 50 shots—he’s arguably the worst in NBA history. And honestly, I respect that he knew his role and focused on what he did best, rather than forcing something that wasn’t there. It’s a lesson in specialization that many players could learn from today, especially in an era where everyone seems pressured to shoot threes.

Moving on, another standout in this dubious category is Shaquille O’Neal. Shaq is an icon, a larger-than-life personality who dominated the league with his physicality, but his three-point attempts were more of a novelty than a strategy. In his 19-year career, he took just 22 three-pointers and made only one. Yes, you read that right—one make out of 22 tries, giving him a pathetic 4.5% shooting percentage. I’ve always found it amusing how Shaq would joke about his lack of range, but behind the humor lies a stark reality: some players are built for power, not finesse from deep. From my experience covering the NBA, I’ve seen how coaches would cringe when he strayed beyond the arc, and it’s no wonder he rarely ventured there. What’s interesting is that, in today’s game, a big man like Shaq might be pressured to develop a three-point shot, but back then, it was almost a non-issue. Comparing him to modern centers who shoot threes regularly, it’s a testament to how the game has evolved, and not always for the better in terms of player roles. Personally, I think Shaq’s legacy is untarnished by this—he’s a legend regardless—but it’s a fun footnote in the annals of NBA history.

Now, let’s talk about a less famous name: Muggsy Bogues. At 5’3”, he’s the shortest player in NBA history, and while his heart and playmaking were incredible, his three-point shooting was, well, forgettable. Over 14 seasons, Bogues attempted 173 threes and made only 40, resulting in a 23.1% clip. That might not sound as bad as Wallace or Shaq, but when you consider the era and his role as a point guard, it’s pretty poor. I’ve always admired Muggsy for overcoming size biases, but his shooting struggles highlight how height can impact range and consistency. In my analysis, I’ve noticed that shorter players often have to work extra hard on their shot mechanics, and Bogues was no exception. Yet, he rarely let it define his game, focusing instead on assists and steals. It’s a reminder that not every weakness needs to be a focal point; sometimes, embracing your strengths is the key to longevity. And speaking of contexts, imagine if Bogues played in a modern arena like the SM Mall of Asia Arena—with its state-of-the-art facilities, maybe he’d have had a slightly better shot, but I doubt it would’ve changed much. After all, shooting is as much about skill as it is about fit, and Bogues was a product of his time.

Wrapping this up, looking at these players—Wallace, O’Neal, and Bogues—it’s clear that three-point shooting isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay. In my view, the NBA’s beauty lies in its diversity of skills; we don’t need every player to be a sharpshooter. Statistically, these guys stand out for their low percentages, but they also exemplify how success in basketball isn’t one-dimensional. As the game continues to evolve, with arenas like the SM Mall of Asia Arena hosting high-pressure matches, I hope we don’t lose sight of the specialists who excel in other areas. From a personal standpoint, I’d take a lockdown defender like Wallace over a mediocre three-point shooter any day. So, next time you’re watching a game, remember that the worst shooters often bring something else to the table, and that’s what makes the NBA so compelling.