Donovan Spellman has been on every side of college football. Recruited. Rotated. Overlooked. Transferred. Praised. Questioned. And now? Grounded.
“I had some ups and downs in college football,” Spellman says, sitting calmly in a black UNLV football hoodie. “And I don't look at it as something negative. It made me who I am.”
A senior edge rusher from Greenville, North Carolina, Spellman enters the 2025 season not as a breakout story, not as a savior, but as a seasoned player who knows exactly what he’s here to do and exactly how many scars it took to get here.
Roots in North Carolina, Toughness From the Jump
Before the portal. Before the rotations. Before the uncertainty. Spellman was a conference defensive player of the year at Clayton High School in North Carolina: a relentless edge presence with over 140 tackles, 52 quarterback hurries, and more than 30 sacks across his final two seasons.
He signed with Appalachian State out of high school, a program known for player development and discipline. There, he played in 20 games across two seasons, but never found consistent reps. The potential was there: 18 tackles, 4.5 TFLs, a pick, and a pass breakup, but so was the logjam.
In 2024, he transferred closer to home, joining the Charlotte 49ers. He played in 12 games, flashed in spurts, but again, something was missing.
“I feel like when I went into the portal, I went in off of, you know, just what I thought would be best,” he says of that Charlotte move. “But I didn’t truly dig deep into what would really be the best fit for me.”
That honest reflection led him to a harder question: What does the best fit even look like?
UNLV: The First Place That Felt Real
When UNLV came calling in late 2024, Spellman didn’t know much about the program. But he knew how the conversation felt and how different it was.
“I felt the energy. I felt the love. I felt that it was genuine,” he says. “Coach Mullen, Coach Bruce, everybody was just transparent. That’s what brought me here.”
At a time when many players chase logos, NIL, or quick guarantees, Spellman was chasing something else: alignment. And what he found in Las Vegas wasn’t a promise, it was a process.
“I done been through so many things. I had to find myself through everything. I had to be confident in me.”
It clicked immediately. The people, the structure, the toughness.
“We live in that weight room. That’s what we do,” he says. “We suffer together. We go through pain together. That’s what makes it so strong.”
It’s not just a slogan. For Spellman, the weight room is a culture lab where leadership forms, trust is built, and expectations don’t waver.
“Everybody eat. Everybody gettin’ the same pain. And if one person fall off, we right there to pick ‘em up.”
“I Play With My Heart”: Inside the Game of No. 98
Spellman’s style of play is everything you want in an edge defender: explosive off the line, long frame, high motor. But it’s the way he describes himself that stands out.
“I play fast. I play with violence. I play with my heart.”
He’s not chasing empty sacks or highlight hits; he wants to leave a mark that shows up on the opponent’s film sessions.
“I want people to feel me,” he says. “When they turn on that film, I want them to say, ‘98… yeah, we gotta gameplan for him.’”
His inspirations are clear: Maxx Crosby and Von Miller, two of the best to ever play the position. And while Spellman’s game is still evolving, it’s their mentality he studies the most.
“That’s where I get my effort from, watching Maxx Crosby,” he says. “And Von Miller: the details, the first step, the bend. Those are my top two.”
For Spellman, it’s not about talent. It’s about mentality.
“That’s what separates people, your character. How you carry yourself. You could play fast, but if you're not detailed with it, you're just a guy out there just flying around.”
A Life Built on Faith and a Sweet Tooth
Off the field, Spellman is quiet, intentional, and deeply rooted in his faith. He grew up in church. Still sings gospel. Still prays nightly.
“That’s where I get my heart from,” he says. “Just giving it all to God no matter what. He gave me this gift. I’m just using it.”
Faith, he says, is what steadied him through the uncertainty. Through the schools. The waiting. The late nights. The doubt.
“I just had to be present. I stopped worrying about the future or the outcome. I stopped comparing myself. And once I did that, everything started aligning.”
And yes, he’s got NIL dreams too. Just not the ones you’d expect.
“Sour Patch Kids,” he says, grinning. “If you’re watching this, tap in. Blue raspberry. Let’s get something going.”
The Final Chapter: Not Chasing Hype, Just Respect
This is Spellman’s final ride. His last college season. And his message heading into fall camp isn’t boastful. It’s locked in.
“We got some dogs. We got people that’s hungry. We got a group of people that want to go get it. That’s dangerous.”
He doesn’t care about being the face of the defense. He doesn’t need praise. What he wants is a legacy that speaks for itself.
“That I was real,” he says, when asked what he hopes people say after watching him play. “That I played the game the right way. That I loved it.”
And when it’s all said and done?
“I’m not chasing anything,” he says. “I’m here now. I’m home.”
Final Word
Donovan Spellman isn’t a five-star story. He’s not a viral clip. He’s not a portal stat-chaser. He’s a grown man who’s been through the meat grinder of college football — and came out standing taller.
UNLV didn’t give him a second chance.It gave him a platform to show what was always there.
He’s not chasing anything anymore.
He’s just ready to hit somebody.