Many of you may have forgotten about this, but back at Wilson Junior High, the PE department had a rating system for testing our physical strength. The system had four colors to identify your strength level: White, Red, Green, and Gold. White was the lowest level, and Gold was the highest. Every boy was issued white shorts to start with, and the harder you worked, the more you could advance up the color chain of gym shorts. There were only three of us who made it to Green gym shorts: Scott Cannady, myself, and I can't remember who the thrid was. Only one of us made it to Gold gym shorts: Gil Camper. He was the absolute best in our class!
I've often wondered over the years what ever happened to Gil, and whether he had a good life or not. I am saddened to hear this news.
Gil was a great friend back in school but we lost touch after graduating. My prayers and condolences to his fami;y and loved ones. Its so sad to learn about the deaths of two old friends from high school on the same day!
It's truly sad to hear hat we lost 3 more classmates. I didn't really know Gil very well in high school but I do remember when I last saw him. I stopped to get gas when I was leaving Yakima after the 30th class reunion and Gil was one of the attendants at the gas station.He was living in Lynnwood where I live when he died. I tried finding more details about his accidental death but found nothing. Fly high Cadet.
Eisenhower High School – Class of 1979 In Memory of Jeff LaFortune, Randy Speight, and Gil Camper
Before Eisenhower had a soccer program… we were just a bunch of kids at Wilson Jr. High in 8th grade who loved chasing a ball.
There wasn’t a blueprint.
There wasn’t much structure.
There wasn’t even much adult supervision after a while.
There was just us.
We started playing together in 8th grade. We had a coach in 8th and 9th grade, but from 10th grade on… we coached ourselves. Somehow, that ragtag group of teenagers built something bigger than we understood at the time. We founded Eisenhower’s first soccer team. We made soccer a school sport. We were the beginning.
Over five years together, we only lost two games.
Two.
Our goalie, Randy Speight, was nearly untouchable. Goals were scored on him in only two games during that entire stretch. He stood back there like a wall — quiet, steady, fearless. If the ball got through, it had earned its way there.
One of those losses was 1–0… against my little brother’s team. We controlled the field the entire game except for one breakaway that slipped past Randy. Even then, it didn’t feel like defeat. It felt like a lesson in how small moments can decide everything.
But the second loss — that’s the one I’ll never forget.
We entered a tournament a few hours away — I can’t quite remember the city anymore. What we do remember is how we got there.
Rusty Root had this old van — the kind that looked like it could’ve rolled straight out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon. Nine of us crammed into that thing and drove off with no coach, no adult supervision, just a group of determined teenagers chasing a championship.
We played game after game over two days and somehow — self-coached — made it to the championship.
And then reality showed up.
We were facing a team from England. They were disciplined, technical, and absolutely dismantling us. By halftime we were down five or six to nothing. The weather was miserable. So instead of standing on the sideline sulking, we piled into the back of Rusty’s van to regroup.
It was quiet at first. We were licking our wounds.
Then Gil Camper looked around at all of us and said,
“I don’t know about you boys, but I don’t want to receive a silver medal with the good conduct award.”
We looked at each other.
And something shifted.
Gil, in true Gil fashion, sparked up a few joints. The van quickly resembled a scene straight out of Up in Smoke. When those doors opened for the second half, I’m not sure we could see the field clearly — but we were laughing, alive, and ready.
Did we win? No.
But we played free.
We played together.
And we walked off that field as brothers.
That was our team.
Jeff LaFortune.
Randy Speight.
Gil Camper.
Three men who helped build something that didn’t exist before us. Three teammates who shaped who we became. Three friends who shared sweat, laughter, defeat, rebellion, and joy.
We didn’t just found the Cadet soccer team.
We built memories that would last a lifetime.
And now, as we say goodbye to Jeff, Randy, and Gil, I realize something:
We may have only lost two games back then…
But we’ve lost three brothers since.
Rest easy, boys.
Don’t worry — we’ll get them next time.
And if not, we’ll make sure we have one hell of a time trying.
David Thiesfeld
Many of you may have forgotten about this, but back at Wilson Junior High, the PE department had a rating system for testing our physical strength. The system had four colors to identify your strength level: White, Red, Green, and Gold. White was the lowest level, and Gold was the highest. Every boy was issued white shorts to start with, and the harder you worked, the more you could advance up the color chain of gym shorts. There were only three of us who made it to Green gym shorts: Scott Cannady, myself, and I can't remember who the thrid was. Only one of us made it to Gold gym shorts: Gil Camper. He was the absolute best in our class!
I've often wondered over the years what ever happened to Gil, and whether he had a good life or not. I am saddened to hear this news.
David Thiesfeld
I found this while looking for an obit:
Karl Hallesy
Gil was a great friend back in school but we lost touch after graduating. My prayers and condolences to his fami;y and loved ones. Its so sad to learn about the deaths of two old friends from high school on the same day!
Kathy Nessler
It's truly sad to hear hat we lost 3 more classmates. I didn't really know Gil very well in high school but I do remember when I last saw him. I stopped to get gas when I was leaving Yakima after the 30th class reunion and Gil was one of the attendants at the gas station.He was living in Lynnwood where I live when he died. I tried finding more details about his accidental death but found nothing. Fly high Cadet.
Reidar Nettleship
Eisenhower High School – Class of 1979
In Memory of Jeff LaFortune, Randy Speight, and Gil Camper
Before Eisenhower had a soccer program… we were just a bunch of kids at Wilson Jr. High in 8th grade who loved chasing a ball.
There wasn’t a blueprint.
There wasn’t much structure.
There wasn’t even much adult supervision after a while.
There was just us.
We started playing together in 8th grade. We had a coach in 8th and 9th grade, but from 10th grade on… we coached ourselves. Somehow, that ragtag group of teenagers built something bigger than we understood at the time. We founded Eisenhower’s first soccer team. We made soccer a school sport. We were the beginning.
Over five years together, we only lost two games.
Two.
Our goalie, Randy Speight, was nearly untouchable. Goals were scored on him in only two games during that entire stretch. He stood back there like a wall — quiet, steady, fearless. If the ball got through, it had earned its way there.
One of those losses was 1–0… against my little brother’s team. We controlled the field the entire game except for one breakaway that slipped past Randy. Even then, it didn’t feel like defeat. It felt like a lesson in how small moments can decide everything.
But the second loss — that’s the one I’ll never forget.
We entered a tournament a few hours away — I can’t quite remember the city anymore. What we do remember is how we got there.
Rusty Root had this old van — the kind that looked like it could’ve rolled straight out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon. Nine of us crammed into that thing and drove off with no coach, no adult supervision, just a group of determined teenagers chasing a championship.
We played game after game over two days and somehow — self-coached — made it to the championship.
And then reality showed up.
We were facing a team from England. They were disciplined, technical, and absolutely dismantling us. By halftime we were down five or six to nothing. The weather was miserable. So instead of standing on the sideline sulking, we piled into the back of Rusty’s van to regroup.
It was quiet at first. We were licking our wounds.
Then Gil Camper looked around at all of us and said,
“I don’t know about you boys, but I don’t want to receive a silver medal with the good conduct award.”
We looked at each other.
And something shifted.
Gil, in true Gil fashion, sparked up a few joints. The van quickly resembled a scene straight out of Up in Smoke. When those doors opened for the second half, I’m not sure we could see the field clearly — but we were laughing, alive, and ready.
Did we win? No.
But we played free.
We played together.
And we walked off that field as brothers.
That was our team.
Jeff LaFortune.
Randy Speight.
Gil Camper.
Three men who helped build something that didn’t exist before us. Three teammates who shaped who we became. Three friends who shared sweat, laughter, defeat, rebellion, and joy.
We didn’t just found the Cadet soccer team.
We built memories that would last a lifetime.
And now, as we say goodbye to Jeff, Randy, and Gil, I realize something:
We may have only lost two games back then…
But we’ve lost three brothers since.
Rest easy, boys.
Don’t worry — we’ll get them next time.
And if not, we’ll make sure we have one hell of a time trying.
Forever Eisenhower.
Forever Class of ’79.