Good morning. Usual Quincy House breakfast fare, consisting of lumpy oatmeal, "poached" eggs on oast, chipped cream ham, a side of black coffee and a small pillow on the ground next to the chair to keel over onto.

Then again, no need to overeat at this meal, after last night's generous serving of four fried shrimp to every hungry student--and two more for anyone who still had room. Good eating is the byword at Harvard.

How about a stream of consciousness column this morning? They're easy to write and not too taxing to read (for those in a hurry).

My sources on Commonwealth Avenue tell me that the football team from B.U. will arrive at Soldier's Field around 12 noon today.

No reception party has been planned.

This is Harvard's 101 st football season. Last year's "Real Centennial" campaign was a really worthwhile piece of promotion.

The "Transistor Territory" idea for today's game is even better (if that's possible). A transistor radio tuned to the Red Sox gets you into Sections One and Two--prime viewing locations for extra points and activity behind the end zone--for the outrageous price of $3. That's a savings of $2, if you forget the fact that 90 per cent of the people in the stadium didn't pay anything to get in.

"A lot of people who can't get tickets to the baseball playoffs don't necessarily want to stay home on a weekend," athletic director Robert B. Watson offered as reason for this folly. "Now they can watch football, listen to the Sox and save money all at the same time." What a coup!

A Boring Quiz in Rhyme

This field general leads the nation,

in offense and other things;

A last minute choice for starter,

yet look at the balls he flings! (answer, if desired, below)

A small suggestion for the Red Sox: Put Ken "The Yawn" Harrelson in left field. And throw bats at him.

Another suggestion: find a new hurricane to extend the Oakland series to twenty days so that Luis Tiant can pitch every game. Harvard's Pat McInally is still trying to decide between a Rhodes scholarship and a professional career. The Bengals may be wishing that he got the damn Rhodes.