How SMU Football Rose from the Ashes to Reclaim Its Glory

How SMU Football Rose from the Ashes to Reclaim Its Glory

Editor’s note: A version of this story originally ran on Sept. 6. The story has been updated ahead of SMU’s playoff game with Penn State.

IN THE 1980s, SMU football was the epitome of excess, a small school in a big city that became a playground for wealthy boosters determined to make the Mustangs a powerhouse. And for a while, it worked. SMU was a force to be reckoned with, but the party didn’t last. The NCAA’s infamous “death penalty” in 1987 shut the program down, branding SMU as the most corrupt program in college football history. It was a fall from grace so dramatic that it left the school wandering in the wilderness of irrelevance for decades.

Fast forward 40 years, and the sins of SMU’s past have become virtues in today’s college football landscape. The money is flowing again in Dallas, but this time, it’s all aboveboard thanks to NIL (Name, Image, and Likeness) deals. SMU is back in the big leagues, joining the ACC after cutting a groundbreaking deal to forgo television revenue for nearly a decade. Deep-pocketed boosters have pledged to cover the shortfall while also funding a top-tier NIL collective. The Mustangs are officially back in the game.

“We don’t embrace the mistakes of our past,” said SMU head coach Rhett Lashlee. “But we do embrace the history of our past.”

The Wild West of College Football

SMU’s return to prominence required a perfect storm of money, power, and a little Dallas swagger. Most schools join a major conference to cash in on lucrative TV deals, but SMU’s boosters made it clear that money wasn’t an issue. David Miller, SMU’s chairman of the board, summed it up with a Texas-sized flex: “It’s a couple hundred million dollars. I’m not losing sleep over it.”

That confidence comes from people like Bill Armstrong, a billionaire oilman and one of the most successful wildcatters in history. Armstrong, who was at SMU during the glory days of the Pony Express, has pledged millions to the program. His name now graces the Mustangs’ state-of-the-art practice facility and football offices. “I was at SMU when we were great,” Armstrong said. “I saw how important having a major college football team is to a good university.”

Armstrong and a new generation of boosters, many of whom lived through the pain of SMU’s post-death penalty struggles, are determined to restore the program to its former glory. “I bet a lot of these schools look at SMU and go, ‘Oh, s—, here come all the billionaires,’” Armstrong quipped. “We’ve been the whipping boy for so long. We’re not going to blow it.”

From Scandal to Redemption

In the 1980s, SMU was the poster child for college football’s anything-goes culture. The Mustangs were notorious for their slush fund, paying players under the table despite repeated NCAA sanctions. The arrogance was palpable. Students wore T-shirts that read, “Ponies. Polos. Porsches. Probation. Nowhere but SMU.”

But the NCAA had enough. In 1987, SMU became the first and only program to receive the “death penalty,” shutting down football for the 1987 season and crippling the program for years to come. The fallout was catastrophic. Applications for enrollment plummeted, donor contributions dried up, and the university’s reputation took a massive hit.

It wasn’t until the late 2000s that SMU began to show signs of life. June Jones, Sonny Dykes, and now Rhett Lashlee have all played pivotal roles in rebuilding the program. Lashlee, who led the Mustangs to an 11-3 record and an AAC title last season, believes SMU’s potential has always been there. “Other than the conference, what’s the reason we can’t win here?” Lashlee said. “And there really wasn’t one.”

The ACC Era Begins

Joining the ACC is a game-changer for SMU. The school raised a record $159 million for athletics during the 2023-24 fiscal year, including $100 million in just five days after the ACC announcement. The Boulevard Collective, an NIL initiative launched by prominent boosters, has ensured that every football and basketball player receives $36,000 annually. The Mustangs also added 18 Power 4 transfers this offseason, including players from Michigan, Ohio State, and Georgia.

“We’re getting serious again,” said SMU legend Eric Dickerson. “If you’re half-assed in and half-assed out, it’s not going to work. That’s what SMU is doing now. They’re working their ass off to get things done.”

What’s Next for the Mustangs?

SMU’s boosters and fans are dreaming big. “Is our expectation that we’re going to be able to compete for championships within two to three years?” Miller asked. “The answer to that is yes.”

Lashlee welcomes the high expectations. “We’re going to get so much from being a part of the ACC,” he said. “That was really the last piece we needed in terms of recruiting and the chance to build our program back to the national level.”

After decades of wandering in the wilderness, SMU is ready to reclaim its place in college football’s upper echelon. As Armstrong put it, “Moses roamed through the desert shorter than SMU has been roaming the bad football years. It’s about time we came back.”