Imogen never cared for sports. Especially not basketball. The idea of running around and throwing a ball into a hoop seemed like some cruel form of torture disguised as “fun.” Growing up, she had no interest in trying out basketball—why would she? None of her friends played, and like most kids, she didn’t have a basketball just lying around at home, ready for her to suddenly develop a passion for shooting hoops.

And then it happened. One fateful day, Imogen missed the bus. Not by a reasonable five minutes, but by a soul-crushing 30 seconds. While she cursed the gods of public transportation, her best friend, in a moment of misguided enthusiasm, asked her to play basketball while they waited for the next bus. Because, get this: there was a basketball just sitting there—at the court right behind their usual bus stop, accessible via her phone. Apparently, thanks to some genius idea (read: the worst idea in the history of bad ideas), anyone could just use the ball and play whenever.

Against her better judgment (and likely some form of temporary insanity caused by bus-related trauma), Imogen agreed. They played, and something unexpected happened. Imogen was… alright. And the ball kind of went in a few times. They played every week, until school ended. A few weeks into the summer, Imogen found herself on an actual basketball team. Like, the kind where people wear jerseys and yell encouraging things at each other.