Off the sofa and onto TV

You know the type: nestled into the couch, beer at the ready, shouting at the screen. Forget baseball or football -- trash-talking is our true national pastime, the God-given right of all Americans to express their most vitriolic feelings from the comfort of their living rooms.

We do it to politicians, prevaricating and dodging questions. (They’re just asking for it.) We do it to celebrities, pretty, sometimes vacant and often smug. (Really asking for it.)

Athletes, though, would seem to be less appealing targets. There’s something impenetrable about their physical prowess that should, rightly, prevent such thoughts from taking hold. Their strength and skills aren’t relative -- they’re absolute.

But Americans are stubborn in their can-do commitment to self-expression, so stubborn in fact, that they’re willing to put their physical health on the line to back up the words they utter in private. It is the only explanation for “Pros vs. Joes,” which starts its third season on Spike TV on Wednesday (regular time slot is 11 p.m. Thursdays).

On this uniquely cruel show, very fit and extremely hubristic laymen square off against a range of recently retired (or not) professional athletes in challenges that are sometimes entertaining and more routinely humiliating. In previous seasons, this has involved attempting to score a goal against Claude Lemieux, playing home run derby with Jose Canseco, and getting beaten about the head by Roy Jones Jr. It is one part celeb-reality, one part “Fear Factor.”

Some people don’t even need the allure of the pros to put their bodies at risk. The competitors on “American Gladiators” (NBC, 8 p.m. Mondays) are content to compete against the freakishly muscular in-house warriors, and they pay for it -- there have been injuries in two of the first four episodes this season.

“Gladiators,” which debuted this month with generally charmless hosts Laila Ali and a slightly desiccated Hulk Hogan, resurrects the late ‘80s-early ‘90s syndication franchise with few tweaks. (Reruns of the original air on ESPN Classic; sorely missed in the reboot is co-host Mike Adamle, who gave the charmingly amateur proceedings a dose of seriousness.)

The competitions are still sublimely simple -- climbing a wall, jousting, running a gantlet -- though there is, inexplicably, more water this time around. And the Gladiators, in an improvement over the original, are self-aware bordering on campy. Titan, a four-time Mr. Universe, has wavy hair, a practiced grin and overactive eyebrows. Toa is the cousin of The Rock and has borrowed his bemused stoicism. There is also a brutish, stocky blond named Hellga -- her lack of a Viking hat suggests at least a touch of restraint.

Though they often appear to be thick with ‘roid rage -- “It’s a good day to look scared, dog,” says Mayhem -- all of the Gladiators have tested clean, according to the website Broadcasting & Cable. (Will there one day be a Mitchell Report devoted to the show’s original run?)

So you can trust the Gladiators, but should you root for them? Both shows test the fan-athlete relationship -- whom to support, the underdogs or the heroes? This season “Pros” will feature, among others, running back Ricky Williams, pitcher Al Leiter, mixed martial arts fighter Bob Sapp, boxer Arturo Gatti and basketball player Charles Oakley, all of whom still command fan worship.

When they can get a word in edgewise in between raspy outbursts from host Petros Papadakis, the Joes invariably crack wise about the Pros’ presumed creakiness, but it is always the Pros who get the last laugh. Their evident glee in shooting down the Joes’ dreams is perhaps the highlight of the show. This week, basketballer Kendall Gill proclaims, “My main objective here is not to win but is to defeat you, embarrass them and show you guys that you were never ever meant to be in the same class as us pros.” Last season, when wide receiver Andre Reed left one unfortunate Joe in the dust, former slam dunk champion Spud Webb chimed in from the sidelines: “At least be in the damn picture!”

You can lead a Joe to a Pro, but you can’t force respect. Accordingly, the frequent Joe-to-Pro posterior-slapping feels awkward and compensatory, like a teammate’s privilege that needs to be earned. And though there have been some impressive Joes over the last two seasons, too often their success has more to do with slip-ups by the Pros than outmaneuvering by the Joes.

Similarly, the outsized Gladiators can often be taken down with a little nimbleness. This can make for tough, empty bragging rights. But both shows make up for the imbalance with dashes of theater. “I hope to make it across and try not to catch the mange,” one contestant said as he prepared to tackle the rings course against the Gladiator Wolf, who replied, “I’m smellin’ fear, I’m smellin’ blood, and I’m gonna eat you.” Then he howled.

Off the major networks, the original “Gladiators” sometimes felt as if it was taking place in an alternate universe. Now, bolstering NBC during the writers strike, it has become a big deal. The lighting design is impressive, the crowds are loud. And in addition to prize money, the winners of “Gladiators” will receive the chance to become Gladiators themselves next season.

But a more profound satisfaction probably comes from winning “Pros.” Previously, the winning Joe would get the jerseys off the Pros backs, but that appears to no longer be the case -- perhaps it was too intimate, too much like a war trophy. The competitions take place in imposing arenas -- the Rose Bowl, the Superdome, and more -- but there are no crowds, only the combatants. And so the reward is humbler -- a pat on the back from an icon, a boost of pride and the opportunity to head right back to the couch and talk, loudly, about the time you took it to the Pros. If you can’t join ‘em, beat ‘em.