Unwatchable Football”: Why the Panthers and Saints Might Be the NFL’s Worst Teams and Still Manage to Beat Each Other

The New Orleans Saints and the Carolina Panthers are not just struggling — they’re spiraling. At this point in the NFL season, both franchises look less like professional football teams and more like cautionary tales in mismanagement, missed potential, and outright mediocrity. And if there’s one thing saving either of these franchises from total irrelevance, it’s the fact that they’re forced to play each other twice every season. That matchup might be the only winnable game on their calendars. In a league that prides itself on parity, competitive balance, and star power, the Saints and Panthers have become something far worse than bad — they’ve become boring.

From top to bottom, both franchises are in disarray. The Saints, once defined by the brilliance of Drew Brees and the innovation of Sean Payton, are now rudderless, held hostage by bloated contracts, inconsistent quarterback play, and a coaching staff that looks increasingly overwhelmed. The Panthers, meanwhile, are still trying to convince themselves that drafting Bryce Young over C.J. Stroud wasn’t a franchise-altering mistake. But the scoreboard doesn’t lie — and neither does the product on the field. What fans are seeing week after week is an uninspired, predictable, and fundamentally flawed brand of football that’s become impossible to watch without either laughing or cringing. Or both.

When these two teams meet, it’s not a battle of titans. It’s a race to the bottom. And yet, their matchups are probably the best chance either one has at salvaging a win this season. That’s what makes the whole situation so darkly comedic. They’re each lucky to have the other — not for rivalry’s sake or regional bragging rights, but because losing to anyone else is practically guaranteed. Watching the Saints and Panthers play each other is like witnessing two drowning men throw each other lifebuoys made of lead. Nobody wins — but someone has to, by rule.

The Saints have become a case study in how quickly a franchise can unravel after losing a franchise quarterback. Derek Carr was supposed to stabilize the offense, bring veteran leadership, and make use of the Saints’ remaining playmakers. Instead, he’s become a symbol of everything wrong with their current era: safe but ineffective, available but uninspiring, technically sound but emotionally flat. The offensive line is in shambles, the run game is inconsistent, and even the defense — once the strength of the team — looks increasingly like it’s just going through the motions.

The Panthers aren’t faring any better. Bryce Young, drafted No. 1 overall, was expected to be a generational talent — someone who could elevate a franchise in desperate need of identity. But through poor protection, questionable coaching decisions, and a complete lack of surrounding talent, Young has looked lost. The offense struggles to move the ball. The defense gives up explosive plays at the worst times. The coaching carousel in Carolina has only made matters worse, creating an environment of chaos instead of growth. And with no first-round pick in the upcoming draft — thanks to the trade that brought Young to Charlotte — there’s no quick fix on the horizon.

This is not just about bad football. This is about hopeless football. When teams are this inept, fans stop showing up. National broadcasts start avoiding their games. Players quietly begin to check out. The stadiums feel emptier, the narratives become sadder, and the rest of the league moves on without them. The Saints and Panthers have become footnotes in a season where even the worst teams are supposed to be competitive. And yet, they remain exactly what Paul Harrison described in his viral tweet — the two worst teams in the NFL, saved only by the fact that they get to play each other.

The tragic irony is that both franchises had moments not long ago when it looked like they were on the verge of something great. The Saints were perennial playoff contenders, feared and respected. The Panthers, with Cam Newton at his peak, made it to a Super Bowl and looked poised to be a long-term force. But poor drafting, inconsistent leadership, and front office hubris have reduced them to a joke. Not even a funny one — just a reminder that bad decisions at the top rot a team from the inside out.

In a league where turnaround stories are common — where one good offseason can change a team’s entire future — the Saints and Panthers seem stuck. Not just in the standings, but in identity. Who are these teams? What do they want to be? What’s the plan? Fans are tired of hearing about “rebuilding years” that never end. They’re tired of press conferences full of coach-speak and vague optimism. They want real answers. They want progress. And more than anything, they want something — anything — to believe in again.

It’s not just the fans who notice. Players do too. Free agents don’t want to sign with teams that feel like they have no direction. Young players get stunted in their development. Coaches feel pressure from above but get no support. It becomes a cycle of dysfunction, and breaking out of it requires more than just a new quarterback or a hot coordinator hire. It takes leadership. Vision. Patience. And right now, neither the Saints nor the Panthers are showing any of that.

Instead, they’re showing up on Sundays and putting out product that doesn’t belong in the NFL’s top tier — or even the middle tier. There are college teams with more offensive rhythm than these two. There are high school programs that execute better situational football. And while the NFL has always had its basement dwellers, there’s something especially bleak about watching teams that don’t just lose — they don’t even compete. They don’t scare anyone. They don’t demand respect. They just… exist.

That’s why the Saints vs. Panthers games have become appointment viewing for all the wrong reasons. Not because fans expect fireworks or drama or season-altering moments. But because they want to see who can fall on their face harder. Which team can out-bungle the other. It’s not football. It’s performance art. And it’s sad.

For the Panthers, the only silver lining is that they can’t go 0-17 if they beat the Saints once. And for the Saints, the only hope of not becoming the NFC South’s permanent doormat is to scrape together a win or two against Carolina. That’s how low the bar has fallen. It’s not about making the playoffs or winning the division. It’s about surviving the embarrassment of being labeled the absolute worst — an unwatchable franchise in a league built for parity.

And it’s not going to get better until both organizations stop pretending the problems are temporary. This isn’t a glitch. This is a systemic failure. It’s scouting, drafting, player development, coaching, leadership, culture — all of it. And the longer the Saints and Panthers pretend otherwise, the longer their fans will suffer, and the longer they’ll be known not for their rivalries, but for their irrelevance.

So, yes — Paul Harrison was right. These two teams are lucky they play each other. Because without those matchups, they might not win at all. And in a league of 32 teams, being the worst isn’t just shameful — it’s unforgettable.