Coach Todd Campbell is a football coach, Army veteran, and educator based in Dallas, Texas. Born and raised in Abilene, he grew up playing football, baseball, and basketball. Sports shaped his early years and taught him the value of discipline, leadership, and hard work.
He began his college studies at Texas Tech and later earned his degree from the University of Texas at Arlington. He holds multiple educator certifications in Texas, including Physical Education, Social Studies, and Special Education.
Todd’s coaching career has taken him from college programs to high school sidelines. He started as a student assistant at Texas Tech, later coaching at Texas A&M–Commerce and College of the Sequoias. At Sequoias, his offense broke school records for points, completion percentage, and yards per catch.
After 9/11, Todd made a bold move—he stepped away from coaching and joined the U.S. Army. He served for 4.5 years and was honorably discharged after a service injury. When he returned, he picked up where he left off, coaching at several Texas high schools. His teams have won district, bi-district, and regional titles under his leadership.
Off the field, Todd is a mentor, volunteer, and lifelong learner. He supports veteran-focused shelters and local food pantries. He also enjoys classic cars, aviation, and college football.
For Todd Campbell, success is about more than wins. It’s about building trust, leading with purpose, and making a lasting impact—on and off the field.
Success Isn’t Shouted: A Conversation with Coach Todd Campbell
Coach Todd Campbell’s path hasn’t followed a straight line. From growing up in Abilene, Texas, to coaching record-breaking offenses, to stepping away from the field to serve in the U.S. Army, his definition of success has changed over time—but his values haven’t.
We sat down with him to talk about how he thinks about success, leadership, failure, and what really matters when the scoreboard is turned off.
How do you personally define success today?
For me, success means impact. It’s not titles or trophies—it’s whether the people you lead walk away better than they were before. In football, that means developing players who don’t just understand the game, but understand how to lead themselves. In life, it means doing something that serves a purpose beyond you.
I’ve been lucky to coach championship teams, work in college systems, and even break offensive records. But the most successful moments? They’re quieter. Like when a former player calls years later and says, “You helped me believe in myself.” That’s when I know I did something right.
What did your military service teach you about success that coaching didn’t?
The stakes. In football, a bad call or a missed block might cost you a game. In the Army, it can cost lives. That changes how you view responsibility. It’s not just about making decisions—it’s about owning them.
It also stripped away a lot of the ego that can come with coaching. In the Army, nobody cares how many games you’ve won. They care whether you’re dependable under pressure. That stuck with me.
When I came back to coaching after the injury, I brought that mindset with me. Less flash, more focus. The players could feel that. I think it helped them trust me faster.
You’ve coached at the college level and high school level. What does success look like in each?
They’re different worlds. In college, success is often measured in stats—completion rates, red zone efficiency, yards per carry. I had a great run at College of the Sequoias where we set school records in points, completion percentage, and yards per catch. That was a proud moment, but it was also about the system working and the players buying in.
In high school, success is more personal. You’re shaping teenagers during a critical time in their lives. Some of them have never had a steady adult influence. Winning matters, sure, but so does helping a kid graduate or stay out of trouble. At that level, success is in the growth, not just the scoreboard.
What’s one mistake you’ve made that shaped your view of success?
Early on, I tried to do too much myself. I wanted to prove I could handle it all—the offense, the planning, the mentoring, the problem-solving. I didn’t delegate well. Eventually, I burned out.
The turning point came during a long stretch where we were prepping for back-to-back playoff games. I was sleeping maybe four hours a night, trying to game-plan every scenario. One of my assistant coaches pulled me aside and said, “You’re not coaching, you’re just surviving.”
That hit me hard. Since then, I’ve learned to trust my staff, build better systems, and focus more on relationships than control. You can’t lead well if you’re constantly running on empty.
What habits or routines help you stay grounded in high-pressure environments?
I’m big on rhythm. In the Army, structure saves lives. In coaching, it saves sanity. I have a prep routine for every game week—film review on Sundays, install by Tuesday, player meetings midweek. I don’t like surprises, and I don’t want my players surprised either.
Personally, I also carve out time away from football. I work on classic cars. I volunteer at local food pantries and shelters, especially those focused on veterans. Those few hours remind me that there’s a bigger world out there. Keeps my perspective in check.
How has your view of success changed from when you started to now?
When I was younger, I thought success was about climbing ladders—bigger teams, better roles, more responsibility. And there’s nothing wrong with ambition. But after the Army, and after coaching so many different kids, I started to see success more as service.
Now, I measure it by the trust I build. If my players respect me, if my staff relies on me, and if my community knows I’ll show up—that’s success. I don’t need to shout about it. I just need to live it every day.