So yeah, I was just sitting around yesterday, scrolling through my phone, and I kept seeing folks online going nuts over this Denham Brown guy and his 111 points thing in hoops. I mean, what’s the big deal? I’ve heard all about Jordan and LeBron and that stuff, but this Brown dude? It sounded wild, like he dropped more buckets in one game than I do in a whole month. Made me think, man, why is everyone still talking about it? Feels like one of those tall tales that just sticks around. Anyways, I figured, why not grab my ball and hit the local court? I wanted to see for myself what it takes to even dream about scoring like that.
Getting Started with the Plan
First up, I dug out my old sneakers and ball from the garage—they were pretty dusty, honestly. It’s been a minute since I played regularly, life just gets busy with work and all that junk. But today, I was dead set on doing my own thing. I didn’t go fancy; just a simple pickup game at the park nearby. No teams or rules or anything, just me practicing alone at first. I started with some warm-up dribbles. That ball felt slippery at first, like it was fighting me or something. But I told myself, “Okay, let’s see if I can get 10 shots in without messing up.” Took me a few tries, and I kept slipping and tripping on my own feet. Felt stupid, but whatever.
What Happened During the Shootaround
Then I got into the real part. I set up like it was a real game, picking spots from different angles—close to the hoop, then back to the three-point line. Shot after shot, I just kept firing away. At the start, it was going okay, I made a few buckets. But man, after a while, my arms started feeling like noodles. I couldn’t hit anything straight. The ball kept bouncing off the rim or going way off. Even simple layups were tougher than I thought. I started counting points in my head—like, if this shot went in, I’d give myself points. Half an hour in, and I was only at maybe 25 points or so, if that. Sweating buckets and gasping for air.
The Hurdles That Kicked My Butt
Things got messy. A few kids showed up to join, so we played some half-court stuff. They were good, all fast and springy. I tried to push harder, wanting to score every time I got the ball. But nope. My shots missed more often than not, and my legs gave out. I tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate dirt—just laughed it off, but it stung. The kids were laughing too, which made it fun but didn’t help my score. I was aiming for like, I dunno, 50 points or something crazy, but reality slapped me hard. Felt like I was moving in slow motion while they flew past me.
Wrapping It Up and What It Meant
By the end, I was totally beat. My phone timer showed I played for about an hour total. Didn’t even get close to 50 points; more like 30ish at best, after all the misses and fails. So I sat down on the bench, chugging water, and it hit me—Denham’s 111? That ain’t just numbers; it’s pure legend stuff for a reason. Here’s why it’s so famous: scoring that many in a real game means you gotta have the whole package—speed, stamina, accuracy, and nerves of steel. No room for mistakes, no “my arms are tired” excuses. It’s like Jordan’s feats people rave about, where every move counted big time. Denham’s thing stuck because it shows how far someone can go when they’re just on fire that day. Makes you appreciate the grind, even if my own attempt fell flat.
