As Harvard students, we’re often spoiled by the history around us. We know many of the basic facts—the date of incorporation and the names of at least a few of the presidents that came here—but often not much more.

At the same time, we give Harvard’s monuments and plaques about the same attention as we give disruptive Hahvahd tour groups when we’re walking from the Science Center to Sever: as little as possible. I know from walking by the same tour every Tuesday and Thursday at 11 that Matt Damon lived in Matthews.

I cannot say that I’m at all above this lack of attention. Leaving Ec 10 lecture in Sanders Theater, I paid more attention to the fact that one of the names on the wall—Benjamin Franklin Peirce—is almost identical to the legal name of Hawkeye, the protagonist from M*A*S*H, before I thought about the building’s original purpose as a Civil War memorial.

This observation, for one, demonstrates my affinity to 1970’s sitcoms. But it also shows how even the most interesting landmarks become banal when they become familiar. It’s why we never go to museums in our own hometowns.

As the adage goes, you can learn a lot by looking. We’re surrounded by historical markers in the Yard, the Square and our Houses.

The ones we might ignore the most are those in Allston. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that we rarely wander purposelessly into the athletic complex.  The people who take the time to admire the history are the same ones who photograph squirrels and touch John Harvard’s foot.

Like in Memorial Church and Sanders Theater, many of the monuments are war memorials—not surprising, given that formal (but little-used) name of the whole complex is Soldiers Field.

Without exploring beyond the standard path to Harvard Stadium, you can find tucked-away monuments that provide some insight into Harvard and Boston history.

The first, on the right after walking through the gates, is a memorial to five men: two are Lowells, all have Boston Brahmin-ish names. The obelisk doesn’t list when or where these men died, or why just these five were chosen.

Ordinarily, Lowell means three things—the house, the lecture hall, and frustration for freshman who show up at the wrong one for section. But the five men, including both Lowells, were Civil War casualties. Soldiers Field, in fact, is named for them. When Henry Lee Hugginson, another Union soldier, donated over 30 acres to Harvard, he did so in honor of these five friends from college who died fighting for the North.

Walking toward the stadium, on the left, is a plaque to “Tack” Hardwick ’15. As the memorial reads, Hardwick was a three sport varsity athlete, though it doesn’t mention his involvement in World War I as a captain in the army.

Nor does it mention (perhaps more importantly to Bostonians today) his involvement in building the Boston Garden, home of the Bruins from 1928 to 1995 and of the Celtics from 1946 to 1995.

Harvard Stadium itself is more significant than most people realize, both athletically and architecturally. A marker on the visitor’s side of the stadium gives a brief history. A gift from the Class of 1879 in 1903, Harvard Stadium was both the first “massive structure of reinforced concrete in the world” and the first permanent stadium for American college athletics.

The age and throwback Romanesque architecture, to be sure, adds a certain intangible Harvard gravitas to even the most insignificant of games. And it probably explains the lack of bathrooms and bleachers that are about as comfortable as a middle seat between two sumo wrestlers.

The last memorial on the way in is a three-part plaque to Percy D. Haughton. The College Football Hall of Famer coached Harvard football—the team trained on his private island when he did—and was at one time a part owner of the Boston Braves.

So next time you’re on your way to a football game, check out the monuments. It’s a reminder that Harvard played a critical role in the early development of big-time sports.

But more importantly, were it not for some of these men, Harvard Stadium and Soldiers Field wouldn’t be there in the first place.