Basketball, Journalism, & Religion

Northwest Yeshiva coach Steve Bunin talks about his journey from journalist to coach.

Life experiences shape the people we become.

For Northwest Yeshiva coach Steve Bunin, his journey started with heartbreak. Growing up on Mercer Island, Bunin dreamed of playing basketball for Ed Pepple, the winningest coach in Washington State history.

“I think everyone on Mercer Island in the seventies, eighties, and nineties grew up idolizing him and dreamed of playing for him one day,” Bunin said.

For Bunin, Pepple’s program was framed through a Hoosiers lens. The film, starring Gene Hackman, was his favorite growing up. In a pre-smartphone world, Bunin participated in Little Dribblers, dreaming of the day he’d join the Mercer Island team.

It didn’t hurt that Mercer Island legend Quinn Snyder, now the head coach of the Atlanta Hawks, was his neighbor.

For Bunin, though, that dream never came true.

The summer before his junior year, Bunin worked as a bat boy for the Mariners. Instead of returning for a second season, he dedicated himself to basketball.

“I was like, ‘I’ve got to dedicate myself to being the 12th man on the Mercer Island High School basketball team,’” Bunin said. “I had no illusions about playing.”

All Bunin wanted was to be part of the team.

“I think I was the quintessential 12th man — super teammate, great guy, always enthusiastic on the bench and in practices — but I was just limited physically in other ways,” he said.

After a summer of hard work, Bunin was cut from the team. He was devastated. Pepple typically kept seniors who dedicated themselves to the program as the 12th man, but that wasn’t the case for Bunin.

“I didn’t care if I played a minute,” he said. “I wanted to be with my buddies and be on the floor. I was crushed.”

That heartbreak, however, became a lesson that shaped him as he navigated the cutthroat world of journalism and, later, as a high school basketball coach.

“I just thought there was something more to high school basketball in that program that I represented — that I could have been a part of it,” he said. “But it also helped me in broadcasting, which is a brutally competitive field. I was never going to let anyone keep me from doing everything that I could.”

Sports journalism often seems glamorous. Those in the industry might appear on TV or rub shoulders with elite athletes. But behind the scenes, it’s a grind. You work weekends, miss holidays with family, and rarely start your career in a big city.

For me, I began in Pocatello, Idaho (where I worked with current Seattle Times Mariners writer Ryan Divish) and then moved to Bakersfield, California (where Fox 13’s Aaron Levine worked at the time). Eventually, I landed at The Seattle Times, but it required several moves to small, random places.

For Bunin, the path took him through smaller cities like Flagstaff, Arizona; Binghamton, New York; and Kalamazoo, Michigan.

“You’re not making any money,” Bunin said. “It’s really hard. It’s really fun when you’re doing it, but everything else is really hard. And you have buddies who are making better money and maybe getting married, and you’re living this vagabond lifestyle, eating a lot of peanut butter and jelly and McDonald’s. It’s hard, even though you get to be on TV and at all the games.”

When aspiring broadcasters approach Bunin for advice, he asks a simple question: “Are you willing to move to Yuma, Arizona, and cover an 11-year-old weightlifting competition with the same excitement you’d have covering the CFP National Championship game?”

For Bunin, the answer was always yes. That determination took him all the way to ESPN. At times, he wonders if he could have done more in high school—spent more time in the gym or worked harder to make Mercer Island’s varsity team. But when it came time to interview with ESPN, he was unwilling to walk away with any regrets.

“Nine years into my broadcasting career, I finally got my interview at ESPN, and this was the dream situation,” Bunin said. “I had a really hard time in my twenties. I was 29 years old, and I sat up the night before in the hotel across the street, watching SportsCenter. This was before TiVo, DVRs, or smartphones. I watched SportsCenter eight times in a row. I didn’t call my friends; I wasn’t celebrating. I was locked in and knew every second of what they were going to throw at me.”

Bunin’s audition required recreating a segment from the previous night’s show.

“It was summer, it was Wimbledon,” Bunin said. “I knew Serena Williams had hit an inside-out forehand to the left baseline, and I knew the next match was whoever Steffi Graf was competing against. I was prepared. They might not choose me, but it wasn’t going to be because I flubbed the audition.”

Bunin credits Pepple for instilling the determination he needed to succeed. His high school experience also influences his coaching philosophy.

“All my kids play in every game,” Bunin said. “If it costs me the state championship someday, so be it. I just think high school basketball — especially at the level I coach — is about giving everyone a chance to play. If we can’t overcome 60 seconds of someone subbing in, then that’s on me as a coach.”

At Northwest Yeshiva, an Orthodox Jewish high school, the team does not play on the Sabbath (from Friday nightfall to Saturday nightfall). Electricity is disconnected, and families spend time together. In today’s always-connected world, it’s a concept I deeply respect.

“I love what these kids represent,” Bunin said. “I love representing them. I don’t wear a yarmulke throughout the day — it shows off my bald spot — but I do during games. It’s important to me because I’m representing the school and its values. It’s a really special place to coach.”

Bunin has forged a unique bond with his athletes. Competing purely for the love of the game is something Hoosiers Coach Norman Dale would admire. Each year, Bunin watches the film with his team, reminding them that sometimes, disappointment leads to the most meaningful lessons.

Disappointment, especially as a teenager, can feel profoundly unfair and painful. Yet, those challenging moments often teach lessons that prove invaluable later in life.