Keep Showing Up
The Stephen Behil Story
By: Chase Muro
For Stephen Behil, the path to professional basketball did not begin with a scholarship to a Division I powerhouse or a career that immediately suggested he would one day get paid to play the game.
It began with an opportunity.
And then came the work.
Growing up in Camas, Washington, Behil had always loved basketball. But toward the end of his junior year at Camas High School, something changed. During quarantine, Behil went through a dramatic growth spurt, going from around six feet tall to roughly 6-foot-6. By his senior year, he stood around 6-foot-7.
Suddenly, the guard skills and shooting ability he had developed as a smaller player were attached to a much bigger frame.
College coaches began to notice.
Whitworth was the first school to recruit him, followed by interest from programs such as Linfield, Pacific Lutheran, Pacific and several junior colleges.
Behil could have waited to see whether something bigger came along. Instead, he visited Whitworth and found something he valued more than the label attached to the basketball program.
He found a place he wanted to be.
"I visited Whitworth, and I had a great experience with the coaches and the teammates at the time, and I fell in love with the campus," Behil said.
Whitworth was Division III, but to Behil, it felt like a dream school.
The decision would eventually lead him to professional basketball. But there was nothing immediate about the journey.
Behil's first two seasons at Whitworth tested him.
His freshman year was actually better statistically than his sophomore season. As his playing time failed to match what he wanted, questions began creeping in.
Did he still love basketball enough to keep doing this?
Was all the time required to balance basketball, academics, friendships and family worth it?
And perhaps most importantly, why wasn't he playing more?
For a while, Behil found himself looking outward for the answer.
Then he looked inward.
"I think I put blame on, not other people, but like maybe the coaching staff," Behil said. "I was just like, 'Oh, they're not giving me playing time.' Instead, I looked at myself in the mirror and I was just like, 'Okay, maybe I'm the problem.'"
That realization became one of the defining moments of his career.
If Behil wanted more minutes, he decided he had to become a player his coaches could not keep off the floor.
He went directly to his coach.
"What do I need to get better at this offseason?" he asked. "I really want to start, and I want to play a big role next season."
Then he went to work.
Not casually. Not when it was convenient.
Behil began training twice a day on the basketball court while also lifting and conditioning. He became more disciplined with his schedule and more intentional about being mentally prepared every day.
"I developed a crazy work ethic," Behil said.
The physical transformation was just as important.
Behil had been around 175 pounds at 6-foot-6 in high school. In college, he began adding weight, but heading into his junior season he decided to take the weight room seriously.
He was lifting five or six times per week and eating enough to build significant mass onto his frame.
The results showed up on the court.
He became harder to move defensively. He improved as a rebounder. Contact bothered him less offensively.
"I think what really transitioned my game was me being disciplined in the weight room," Behil said.
But Behil was learning something bigger than how to build his body.
He was learning how to respond when life did not give him what he wanted.
Instead of allowing frustration to become an excuse, he used it as information.
If he was not playing, why?
If he was not good enough yet, what needed to improve?
If somebody else had the role he wanted, what could he do about it?
Those questions eventually changed his career.
Behil also had examples around him.
One of them was JoJo Anderson, a Whitworth teammate who missed Behil's freshman season because of injury.
Behil watched Anderson go from sitting on the sideline to returning as Whitworth's starting point guard and eventually becoming the league MVP.
Seeing that transformation mattered.
"If I stay dedicated and I work as hard, something like that can happen for me," Behil remembered thinking.
Eventually, it did.
By his junior season, Behil had moved into the starting lineup and become one of Whitworth's primary offensive options.
But he wasn't finished.
Two of the team's First Team All-Conference players were leaving. Behil knew there would be an opportunity during his senior year.
This time, he wasn't waiting for someone to tell him he was ready.
He told his coach exactly what he wanted.
First Team All-Conference.
First Team All-District.
Even All-American honors.
The goals were intentionally ambitious.
"If you set your goals super high," Behil said, "you've got to be satisfied that maybe you didn't get it, but the other achievements and other things came along."
Behil did not become an All-American.
But nearly everything else he envisioned became reality.
He averaged 17.1 points and 7.3 rebounds per game as a senior. He became Whitworth's leading scorer and earned First Team All-Conference and First Team All-District honors.
The player who once wondered whether his opportunity would ever arrive had become the player his team depended on.
And along the way, Behil learned a lesson that would soon become important all over again.
Sometimes the opportunity you are waiting for isn't something someone else gives you.
Sometimes you have to become ready enough to take it.
If You Can Play, You Can Play: Stephen Behil’s Journey From Division III to the Pros
There are certain basketball moments kids recreate thousands of times growing up.
The clock is running down.
The game is tied.
The ball finds your hands.
Three. Two. One.
You shoot.
For Stephen Behil, that imaginary moment became real during his senior season at Whitworth.
Against Pacific, Whitworth had watched a lead of roughly 20 points disappear. Late in the game, Pacific tied the score, and Behil found himself bringing the ball up the floor.
He wasn't even Whitworth's point guard.
Then the ball was knocked away.
A teammate recovered it and got it back to Behil.
Behil glanced at the clock.
About a second and a half remained.
There was no time to think.
"I was just like, 'All right, I gotta put something up,'" Behil said.
What followed wasn't exactly the perfectly scripted jump shot a kid might practice in the driveway.
It was closer to something attempted during a game of H-O-R-S-E.
Behil launched a one-legged, fading shot while contested by two defenders.
It went in.
His teammates mobbed him.
It was the first game-winning buzzer-beater of his career.
"It was just like an out-of-body experience," Behil said.
The shot was unforgettable, but in some ways it represented something much larger about Behil's career at Whitworth.
He had spent years preparing himself for opportunities that were never guaranteed.
Now another one was approaching.
Professional basketball.
Playing professionally had been somewhere in the back of Behil's mind throughout his senior season. It was something he would pursue if the right opportunity presented itself.
But Behil also understood what professional teams would see when they looked at his résumé.
Division III.
His agent, Jordan Winberg, addressed it directly.
Behil had the size, shooting ability and athleticism to play professionally. But coming from Division III meant patience would be necessary.
Behil understood.
In some ways, it felt familiar.
He was starting over.
Again.
After his senior season, Behil took only a short break before returning to training. He didn't know when an opportunity would come, but he wanted to be ready when it did.
Then came an invitation to a professional exposure event in Las Vegas.
When Behil arrived and looked at the other players, he saw players from programs such as LSU, Alabama and other major college basketball schools. There were also former professional players trying to earn their next contracts.
Behil had just finished playing Division III basketball.
His initial reaction was understandable.
"What did I get myself into?" he remembered thinking.
Then basketball started.
And the label next to his college stopped mattering.
Behil played exceptionally well, averaging around 26 points per game by his recollection, earning a spot in the event's All-Star game and receiving recognition as one of its top performers.
For Behil, it confirmed something.
The work translated.
"You have to be confident in yourself," Behil said. "No matter what, the work you're putting in, it has to translate."
Soon, the opportunity he had been waiting for arrived.
A professional team in Albania wanted to sign him.
Not just any team, either.
Behil was joining a club accustomed to winning, an organization pursuing another championship after establishing itself at the top of Albanian basketball.
The expectations were clear.
Win.
Behil understood that environment because he had experienced something similar at Whitworth.
Winning was expected there, too.
His experience playing meaningful basketball, combined with his size, shooting, athleticism and adaptability, helped convince the club to take a chance on a Division III rookie from Washington.
Behil accepted.
Suddenly, the kid from Camas who chose Division III basketball was a professional basketball player overseas.
When Behil arrived in Albania, however, he did not view signing the contract as the finish line.
He viewed it as another beginning.
European teams have limited opportunities for foreign players, Behil explained, meaning an American brought overseas is generally expected to contribute.
"You better be pretty freaking good," Behil said.
There was still a role to earn.
Still teammates to learn.
Still coaches to impress.
Still practices to win.
For Behil, that uncertainty wasn't unfamiliar anymore.
He had already lived it.
"It's kind of that same thing, like you said, ground zero," Behil said. "It doesn't really matter."
Whatever his role became, Behil wanted to know he had done everything possible to earn it.
"As long as I work my hardest, I'm a good person, and I connect with my coaches and teammates, at the end of the day, whatever the role or how many points or whatever things I accomplish here, I just have to know that, okay, I gave it my all."
That mentality also shapes the message Behil has for young players who believe their college destination determines their ceiling.
College basketball's hierarchy is impossible to ignore.
Division I receives the attention.
Division III often does not.
Behil experienced that perception firsthand.
Tell someone you play basketball at a major Division I program and the response might be immediate excitement.
Tell them you play Division III basketball and the reaction can be different.
What people don't always understand, Behil said, is how much talent exists at those levels.
"There are a lot of guys at D3 who can move up to D1," Behil said.
Some were overlooked. Some developed later.
Some simply ended up at a different level.
Behil's advice is simple.
Don't let the label decide what you believe is possible.
"If you can play, you can play, and a team will find you," Behil said.
The path might be harder.
It might take longer.
There might not be a straight line from Division III basketball to the professional game.
Behil is proof that there doesn't need to be.
"If you love basketball, there's no reason not to play D3," Behil said. "It doesn't matter about the division."
For years, Behil kept taking the opportunity directly in front of him.
Camas.
Whitworth.
The bench.
The starting lineup.
A senior season as his team's leading scorer.
Las Vegas.
And now professional basketball overseas.
Each step required proving himself again.
That's exactly how Behil seems to like it.
More Than Basketball: Faith, Perspective and the Story Stephen Behil Wants to Leave Behind
Eventually, the points stop counting.
The final buzzer sounds.
The uniform comes off.
And every athlete, no matter how successful, eventually has to answer a question bigger than the game.
Who are you without it?
Stephen Behil already has an answer.
When asked what he wants people to remember about him that has nothing to do with points, rebounds, championships or basketball, Behil didn't mention an accomplishment.
He talked about the kind of person he wants to be.
"Someone that you can go up to and rely on," Behil said. "Rely on me to be a good person."
Then he mentioned something that has become increasingly important in his life.
Faith.
"I would say I walk in faith pretty heavily," Behil said. "I think that's a very important part of my life."
Behil's faith grew significantly during his junior and senior years at Whitworth, a Christian university in Spokane.
Interestingly, those were also the years when his basketball career began taking off.
Behil doesn't separate those developments entirely.
As his faith deepened, his perspective changed.
Basketball has a way of making the immediate feel enormous.
A bad game can feel devastating.
Not playing can feel personal.
Losing a role can make an athlete question years of work.
Behil had already experienced those emotions during his sophomore season at Whitworth.
But faith gave him another way to interpret difficult moments.
"You put a lot of trust in faith," Behil said.
Through prayer, reading the Bible, attending church groups and surrounding himself with teammates who shared his beliefs, Behil began seeing adversity differently.
Maybe a difficult day wasn't meaningless.
Maybe not getting the role he wanted wasn't simply something happening against him.
Maybe there was something to learn from it.
"Maybe you're not having the best day. Maybe something's not going your way. Well, there's a reason for it," Behil said. "God is putting you through these things, making you a stronger person."
That perspective made the hard days easier to handle.
"When I started to fully understand that and come to terms with that, that made a lot of those tougher days, where okay, maybe I'm not playing, I'm not in the role that I want to be, it made it a lot better," Behil said.
Faith did not remove adversity from Behil's life.
It changed how he walked through it.
That distinction matters.
His basketball career is filled with moments when the easiest response would have been frustration.
He could have decided Division III wasn't worth pursuing.
He could have blamed coaches when he wasn't playing.
He could have settled into being a role player.
He could have looked at a Las Vegas roster filled with Division I talent and decided he didn't belong.
Instead, he kept moving forward.
Work played a major role in that.
So did perspective.
And so did the people around him.
Behil speaks often about teammates, coaches and mentors who helped shape him at Whitworth. He learned from older players not only how to compete, but how to lead and how to treat people.
That may ultimately matter to him more than anything on a stat sheet.
Because basketball will end someday.
Behil knows that.
Professional basketball has taken him overseas, where he expects to spend much of each year playing before returning to the United States during the offseason.
How long will he continue?
He doesn't know.
His body will have a say.
So will his desire to keep playing.
But Behil has already thought about what might come next.
Coaching.
After spending most of his life immersed in basketball, Behil has a hard time imagining himself completely walking away from the game.
He would eventually like to coach at a high level, potentially in Division I or Division II college basketball.
Playing professionally overseas could become another part of his education.
He has experienced basketball from Camas High School to Division III college basketball and now the professional game in Europe.
One day, he may have an opportunity to pass those lessons to someone else.
That idea fits Behil.
Because when asked what the phrase "Everyone Has a Story" means to him, he didn't focus on his own.
He focused on everybody else's.
"So many people come from different walks of life," Behil said.
Someone might be an athlete.
Someone might have experienced tragedy.
Someone might be working an ordinary job.
Someone might believe there is nothing particularly special about their life.
It doesn't matter.
"Everyone has a story," Behil said. "You can always learn from someone's life and what they've been through."
There is something powerful in that idea.
We see people every day without knowing what came before the moment in which we encountered them.
We don't know what they've lost.
We don't know what they're chasing.
We don't know what they've overcome.
We don't know what they believe.
And we certainly don't know the entire story simply by looking at them.
"You may look at someone, it's just like you never know their story in a way," Behil said. "Looking at someone, you can never tell their story."
Behil's basketball story is still being written.
For now, the next chapter takes place thousands of miles from Camas, Washington.
He's a professional basketball player.
That's an accomplishment worth celebrating.
But perhaps the more interesting story is how he got there.
He was the kid who grew six inches and suddenly saw basketball differently.
The Division III player who wondered whether his opportunity would ever come.
The sophomore who realized he needed to look in the mirror before looking for someone to blame.
The junior who earned a starting role.
The senior who became his team's leading scorer.
The player who walked into a gym filled with Division I talent and discovered that he belonged.
And now, the professional who is once again starting from the bottom and trying to earn whatever comes next.
Basketball has given Stephen Behil plenty of stories.
But basketball isn't the entire story.
And that's exactly the point.
Everyone has one.
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Steve, thank you for taking the time to share your story. It has been awesome watching your journey from Camas to Whitworth and now to professional basketball.
Your work ethic is inspiring.
“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial.”
James 1:12