Kevin Kampl’s Journey: From Champions League to Farming in Majorca
Under the floodlights of the Champions League, Kevin Kampl always looked like he belonged. Blonde hair flying, forever on the half-turn, forever available for the ball. It’s easy, watching that version of a footballer, to forget there’s a person underneath the shirt.
Kampl has lived almost his entire professional life in Germany. Greuther Fürth first, then Bayer Leverkusen, a spell at Borussia Dortmund, and finally RB Leipzig, where he truly found his footballing home. From 2017 to 2026 he became part of the club’s identity, a constant presence as Leipzig grew from ambitious upstarts into an established Bundesliga force.
Then, at 35, it stopped. Not with a farewell tour, not with a staged lap of honour. With a contract termination in early January 2026 and a quiet exit from the game.
The reason had nothing to do with form or fitness. It came from something football can’t protect anyone from. In Slovenia, Kampl lost his brother. Just months later, his father also passed away. Two blows in quick succession, the kind that rearrange a life whether you want them to or not.
The double tragedy left him unable to carry on. Training sessions, matchdays, tactical meetings – all the familiar routines suddenly felt irrelevant. So he made the decision that many professionals talk about but rarely act on: he walked away. Not to another league or a lower division, but out of football altogether.
Today, if you go looking for Kevin Kampl, you won’t find him on a team sheet. You’ll find him in Majorca, among fields and trees, working as a vegetable and fruit farmer.
“We have honeydew melons, watermelons, tomatoes, onions, peppers, and plenty more,” he told Bild, painting a picture far removed from the Red Bull Arena. The list sounds almost like a new squad he’s assembling, only this time the line-up grows out of the ground.
“They all grow like crazy here,” he said. “The olive oil we make here tastes delicious.” The words are simple, but they carry the weight of someone who has had to rebuild from the basics: soil, sun, quiet.
He doesn’t dress it up. “I have had a pretty s*** year – there is no other word for it.” No euphemisms, no clichés about challenges or journeys. Just raw honesty from a man who has seen his world collapse and is trying to stand it back up, piece by piece.
“Life has to go on, even though it has been very difficult to accept everything that has happened,” he added. “But the peace and quiet we have on Majorca has done us all a lot of good.”
The contrast is striking. From the roar of the Bundesliga to the stillness of the fields. From the tactical noise of Julian Nagelsmann and his successors to the sound of irrigation systems and insects. Yet there’s a logic to it: a midfielder whose game was built on rhythm and control has chosen a life where growth follows its own clear, natural patterns.
What hasn’t changed is the bond with RB Leipzig. Kampl might be out of the dressing room, but he hasn’t walked away from the club emotionally.
“I always keep up to date with what RB Leipzig are doing, and I’ll continue to do so,” he said. “I will also be in the city a lot, so who knows what the future might bring.”
That last line hangs in the air. It doesn’t promise a return, but it doesn’t close the door either. Coaching, an ambassadorial role, something entirely different within the club structure – all of it remains possible for a player who, over eight and a half years, became part of Leipzig’s story.
When he announced his departure, his message to the supporters underlined just how deep that connection runs.
“Dear fans, first and foremost, I would like to thank you for the eight and a half wonderful years that I was able to play here. You gave me a home,” he told them. For a German-born player representing Slovenia, that sense of belonging mattered.
“I felt so comfortable from day one, also with my family. It [the Red Bull Arena] was my living room. You have always had my back. We have celebrated successes, we have overcome lows – but always as a unit. I am extremely grateful to you for always seeing me as one of you.”
It’s a rare thing, to hear a modern professional talk about a stadium as a living room. But it fits Kampl. He was never the loudest star, never the headline act, yet always the player managers trusted when the game’s tempo needed shaping.
Now his days are measured not in minutes played but in harvests. The man who once pressed high up the pitch now checks on melons and tomatoes, who once slid into tackles now walks through fields of peppers and onions. The olive oil he proudly mentions might one day sit on the tables of fans who once chanted his name.
Football moves on quickly. New signings arrive, new stories begin, and old servants slip out of the spotlight. Kampl has chosen a different kind of second act – one rooted in family, recovery, and a quieter kind of purpose.
He still watches Leipzig. He still feels the pull of the city. And somewhere between the peace of Majorca and the noise of the Red Bull Arena, the question lingers: when he’s ready, will football call him back, or has Kevin Kampl already found the life he was meant to live beyond the game?
