Kevin Kampl's Journey: From Bundesliga Star to Farmer in Majorca

Kevin Kampl always looked built for nights under the floodlights. Champions League anthems, packed Bundesliga stadiums, the constant hum of pressure. He played like a man who belonged on the big stage.

And yet, at 35, one of RB Leipzig’s most recognisable figures has walked away from all of it – from the noise, the adrenaline, the routine – to stand in a field in Majorca, watching melons grow.

This is not a comeback story. It’s something far more human.

From Dortmund and Leverkusen to Leipzig legend

Born in Germany but capped by Slovenia, Kampl carved out a career that threaded through some of the country’s most demanding clubs. Greuther Fürth gave him a platform, Bayer Leverkusen and Borussia Dortmund sharpened his game, but it was RB Leipzig that became his footballing home.

He arrived in 2017 and stayed until 2026, long enough to see the club evolve from ambitious disruptors into established Bundesliga contenders. In Leipzig colours he became a constant presence: a metronome in midfield, a leader in a dressing room that changed around him.

The Red Bull Arena suited him. High tempo, vertical football, constant running. He fit the club’s identity so well that, in his own words, the stadium “was my living room.”

For eight and a half years, he lived there.

A year that broke him

Then came the kind of year no athlete can train for.

First, Kampl lost his brother in Slovenia. Months later, his father also passed away. Two blows in quick succession, cutting straight through the armour that elite professionals are supposed to wear.

The grief didn’t sit quietly in the background. It consumed him.

By early January 2026, it became clear he could not simply lace up his boots and carry on as if nothing had changed. Kampl reached an agreement with RB Leipzig to terminate his contract, drawing a line under a top-level career not because his legs had gone, or because the game had moved past him, but because life had.

He described it bluntly: he’d had a “pretty s*** year – there is no other word for it.” No spin. No attempt to dress it up. Just a man whose world had shifted beyond recognition.

From pressing lines to planting rows

Today, instead of patrolling midfield, Kampl walks through fields in Majorca.

He has become a vegetable and fruit farmer, throwing himself into a new life with the same commitment that once defined his play. Honeydew melons. Watermelons. Tomatoes. Onions. Peppers. Rows and rows of produce under the Mediterranean sun.

“They all grow like crazy here,” he said, describing his new surroundings. The olive oil they produce, he adds, “tastes delicious.”

The contrast could not be starker. No tactical briefings. No fixture congestion. No scrutiny of every misplaced pass. Just soil, sun, and the slow, relentless rhythm of nature.

After the chaos of his recent past, the quiet has become a form of healing.

“Life has to go on, even though it has been very difficult to accept everything that has happened,” he admitted. The peace of Majorca, he says, “has done us all a lot of good.”

Leipzig still in his blood

Leaving Leipzig did not mean cutting the cord.

Kampl still follows RB Leipzig closely, tracking results, performances, storylines. The club that once felt like his living room remains part of his daily life, even from hundreds of kilometres away.

“I always keep up to date with what RB Leipzig are doing, and I’ll continue to do so,” he said. He also expects to be back in the city often. And then came the line that will have pricked ears in Saxony: “Who knows what the future might bring.”

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a tease. Just an acknowledgement that the bond between player and club hasn’t snapped; it’s simply changed shape.

A farewell from the heart

When Kampl announced his departure, he did not reach for clichés. His message to the Leipzig fans read like someone trying to say thank you to a place that had carried him through some of his best and worst days.

“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.

“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 was a reminder that for all the talk of systems, structures and philosophies, football still comes down to connection – between player and crowd, between a man and a city that adopted him.

Now, as honeydew melons and watermelons replace Champions League nights and Bundesliga battles, Kampl stands at a crossroads very few see coming in real time. He has stepped out of the spotlight, but he hasn’t closed the door.

The boots are off. The fields are quiet. Leipzig marches on without him.

The real question is whether, one day, that “living room” opens its door again – not for Kevin Kampl the midfielder, but for Kevin Kampl, the man who chose life over the game.