From hopeless to hungry, the transformation of the Kansas Jayhawks football program under head coach Lance Leipold is nothing short of extraordinary. For years, Kansas football existed in the shadows of mediocrity, its name more likely to evoke laughter than fear in the hearts of opponents. A program once relegated to the cellar of the Big 12, buried under years of administrative instability, coaching turnover, and dismal on-field results, now stands as a symbol of belief, resilience, and the power of inspired leadership. Lance Leipold, with his Midwestern grit and methodical mind, has not only revived the Jayhawks—he has reignited a once-defeated fanbase that now dares to dream.
When Leipold was hired in April 2021, few outside Lawrence understood the gravity of the mess he had walked into. Kansas football hadn’t posted a winning season since 2008, hadn’t won more than three games in a season in over a decade, and had cycled through coaches as if hiring and firing were part of a ritualistic curse. The players lacked confidence, fans had lost faith, and the program’s national reputation was in tatters. Even Leipold’s appointment came with questions—was he the right guy, or just another name in a long line of hopeful fixes? After all, his background included stints at Division III Wisconsin-Whitewater and MAC program Buffalo, but not the glitz and glamor of Power Five football. Yet it’s precisely that blue-collar path, carved through relentless attention to detail and a culture of accountability, that proved to be Kansas’ golden ticket out of the darkness.
Leipold didn’t promise miracles. He didn’t sell a fantasy of instant success. He brought instead a vision grounded in culture, development, and consistency. From the very first practice, his message was clear: discipline, effort, and trust would form the bedrock of Kansas football. The rebuild would not be overnight, but every day would matter. Every rep, every drill, every decision would be rooted in the pursuit of sustainable growth. For players long accustomed to chaos and losing, Leipold’s calm confidence offered a refreshing change. For the fanbase, used to emotional whiplash and Saturday disappointments, his no-nonsense demeanor signaled seriousness and long-term commitment.
In his first season, Leipold’s impact wasn’t fully visible in the win-loss column. The Jayhawks finished 2-10, but anyone paying close attention could sense a shift in the winds. The team competed harder, games were closer, and even in defeat, there was a newfound sense of purpose. The signature moment came in a shocking November upset over Texas in Austin—an overtime thriller that ended Kansas’ 56-game Big 12 road losing streak and sent shockwaves across the college football landscape. It was the first real sign that Leipold’s process was working. That single game didn’t just win over the locker room—it won over the city of Lawrence and a legion of doubters. Suddenly, Kansas football wasn’t a punchline. It was a story worth watching.
What followed in 2022 was a season of redemption and revelation. Kansas jumped out to a 5-0 start, earning a national ranking for the first time in 13 years. ESPN’s College GameDay came to Lawrence. Memorial Stadium was packed. The echoes of silence had been replaced by roars of belief. Although injuries and depth issues derailed the season’s back half, Kansas still finished 6-7, earned a berth to the Liberty Bowl, and played one of the most thrilling postseason games of the year—a triple-overtime heartbreaker against Arkansas that proved the Jayhawks belonged on the big stage. More importantly, Leipold’s team had developed an identity: tough, disciplined, explosive on offense, and fearlessly competitive.
The 2023 season cemented Kansas as more than a feel-good story. The Jayhawks went 9-4, beat rival Kansas State for the first time since 2008, and earned their first bowl victory in over a decade by dismantling UNLV in the Guaranteed Rate Bowl. Leipold’s vision had crystallized into a reality—Kansas was no longer the doormat of the Big 12. It was a team that demanded respect. Quarterback Jalon Daniels emerged as a star under offensive coordinator Andy Kotelnicki, and the team’s dynamic run game, bolstered by Devin Neal and an improving offensive line, struck fear into opposing defenses. Defensively, the Jayhawks were no longer paper-thin. They were fast, aggressive, and opportunistic. Leipold’s fingerprints were everywhere—from player development to game management to recruiting philosophy.
Yet perhaps the most inspiring part of Kansas’ revival lies not in wins and stats, but in its emotional impact. A generation of fans who had never seen Kansas football succeed began to believe again. Student attendance skyrocketed. Merchandise sales surged. Alumni who had long disengaged returned to the fold. Children now wore Kansas jerseys not just during basketball season, but in the fall. The culture around Jayhawks football had changed—and it was palpable. This wasn’t just a team playing better football; it was a movement grounded in hope, hunger, and belief in the possible.
Leipold’s leadership has also changed the expectations within the locker room. Players who once hoped to keep games close now talk openly about winning championships. High school recruits who once dismissed Kansas are now making official visits, drawn by the team’s upward trajectory and the authenticity of its coaching staff. The transfer portal, once a source of desperation, has become a tool of strategic improvement. Leipold doesn’t chase flash—he builds with fit, character, and scheme compatibility in mind. That approach has created a locker room with buy-in from top to bottom. His staff, many of whom followed him from Buffalo, is loyal, cohesive, and deeply aligned with the mission. In a sport dominated by egos and volatility, Leipold’s program breathes humility and unity.
Athletic director Travis Goff, who hired Leipold, deserves credit for his boldness. While many programs chased big names and splashy hires, Goff pursued substance. He knew Leipold’s track record—six national championships at the Division III level and a rapid rebuild at Buffalo—signaled a coach who understood how to win from the ground up. The move has paid off in spades. Kansas isn’t just competing; it’s building something sustainable, a foundation that could carry it into the expanded College Football Playoff era with legitimate aspirations.
