WSJ:The Forgotten Ghosts of College Football

You guess it. SMU's one of the schools.
http://tinyurl.com/yjk5hy5
Here's the big take away excerpt: "That death-penalty phrase is not part of our vocabulary," says athletic director Steve Orsini, who in his 3½ -year tenure has made a point of not using the death penalty as an excuse for continued failure. "I wouldn't be here and June Jones [SMU's $2 million-per-year coach] wouldn't be here if we didn't believe we could return to the glory days of old."
The Wall Street Journal
The Forgotten Ghosts of College Football
Four schools that had it all—and lost it
By DARREN EVERSON
There was a time once when the University of Chicago was known for something other than economics and eggheads.
A century ago, Chicago was one of the kings of college football. Legendary coach Amos Alonzo Stagg prowled its sidelines. Seldom did Chicago even play road games. Foes came to the South Side because the paycheck was too good.
But 70 years ago this winter, the school disbanded its football team. The stadium became the birthplace of the atomic bomb, when the first controlled nuclear chain reaction was performed under its stands in 1942. Now a library stands there, which is exactly how Robert Hutchins would've liked it. "When I am minded to take exercise," said Mr. Hutchins, the school president who led the push to ax the team, "I sit down and wait until the mood has passed."
http://tinyurl.com/yjk5hy5
Here's the big take away excerpt: "That death-penalty phrase is not part of our vocabulary," says athletic director Steve Orsini, who in his 3½ -year tenure has made a point of not using the death penalty as an excuse for continued failure. "I wouldn't be here and June Jones [SMU's $2 million-per-year coach] wouldn't be here if we didn't believe we could return to the glory days of old."
The Wall Street Journal
The Forgotten Ghosts of College Football
Four schools that had it all—and lost it
By DARREN EVERSON
There was a time once when the University of Chicago was known for something other than economics and eggheads.
A century ago, Chicago was one of the kings of college football. Legendary coach Amos Alonzo Stagg prowled its sidelines. Seldom did Chicago even play road games. Foes came to the South Side because the paycheck was too good.
But 70 years ago this winter, the school disbanded its football team. The stadium became the birthplace of the atomic bomb, when the first controlled nuclear chain reaction was performed under its stands in 1942. Now a library stands there, which is exactly how Robert Hutchins would've liked it. "When I am minded to take exercise," said Mr. Hutchins, the school president who led the push to ax the team, "I sit down and wait until the mood has passed."