Kevin Kampl: From RB Leipzig to Life in Majorca

For nearly a decade, Kevin Kampl was one of the constant beats in RB Leipzig’s rise – a restless, combative presence who stitched together midfield and attack, a player you noticed more by the rhythm he gave a game than by the headlines he chased.

Now, instead of scanning the pitch for passing angles, he scans rows of crops under the Majorcan sun.

A career that felt at home in Germany

Born in Germany but a proud Slovenia international, Kampl built almost his entire professional life in the Bundesliga. Greuther Fürth gave him an early platform, Bayer Leverkusen and Borussia Dortmund sharpened his game, but it was Leipzig where he truly settled.

From 2017 to 2026, Kampl became part of the club’s furniture. Eight and a half years in the modern era is an eternity, especially at an ambitious, fast-moving project like RB Leipzig. He arrived as the club were establishing themselves as a force; he left as one of the faces that defined their journey.

For him, the Red Bull Arena wasn’t just a stadium. It was, as he would later put it, his “living room”.

Tragedy that football couldn’t fix

Then came the year that broke him.

In Slovenia, his brother died. Months later, his father passed away as well. Two losses, close together, cutting straight through the core of his world.

By early January 2026, it was clear that the usual athlete’s response – burying yourself in routine, in training, in the next match – wasn’t going to be enough. Kampl reached an agreement with Leipzig to terminate his contract. No long farewell tour, no drawn-out speculation. Just a clean, painful break from a life that suddenly felt impossibly distant from what he was going through.

At 35, he decided he couldn’t keep going as a professional footballer. Not like that. Not after that.

A different kind of field

Today, you won’t find Kampl on a tactics board. You’ll find him on a farm in Majorca.

He has swapped boots for work shoes, matchdays for harvest days. The new routine is quieter, but far from empty. As he told Bild, the land is alive with produce: honeydew melons, watermelons, tomatoes, onions, peppers – and more. The crops, he says, “grow like crazy” in the Majorcan climate. The olive oil they produce there, he adds, tastes “delicious”.

It sounds idyllic, almost like a postcard. Kampl doesn’t pretend it has been anything of the sort.

“I have had a pretty s*** year – there is no other word for it,” he admitted. The bluntness tells its own story. This isn’t a footballer playing at being a farmer for a lifestyle feature. It’s a man trying to find some peace after a run of grief that would floor anyone.

“Life has to go on, even though it has been very difficult to accept everything that has happened,” he said. “But the peace and quiet we have on Majorca has done us all a lot of good.”

The ball stops. The pain doesn’t. But the silence of the fields, the rhythm of growing things, has given him and his family something football no longer could.

Leipzig still in his bloodstream

Walk away from the game, yes. Forget it? Not a chance.

Kampl still follows RB Leipzig closely, still checks in on how his old club are doing. The connection is too deep, the years too rich to simply switch off. “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’s not a promise, not a hint of a coaching role or a return behind the scenes. Just an honest admission that the story between him and Leipzig doesn’t feel fully closed.

A farewell that sounded like home

When he announced his departure, his message to the fans underlined just how rooted he felt in the club.

“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 said.

“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.”

That’s not the language of a passing loanee or a short-term signing. It’s the language of a player who grew up with a club and helped it grow in return.

Now, somewhere between rows of melons and groves of olive trees, Kevin Kampl watches Leipzig from afar. The boots are hung up, the stadium roar replaced by the quiet of Majorca.

The question isn’t whether he’ll play again. It’s whether, one day, that living room in Leipzig will open its doors to him in a different role – and whether the man who found solace in the soil will feel ready to step back into the noise.