I was born in 1985, which means that my formative years were spent watching the Buckeyes flail wildly in attempts at wins against the Michigan Wolverines. Once they actually grasped those gold pants, and a few other times they came close, but for the most part it was a miserable way to end my Novembers.
Specifically, I ended them in a certain chair. My parents had this ratty burgundy thing that I dutifully plopped myself in every Saturday in the fall, hoping to see something special happen on the part of the Buckeyes. Usually they came through, but I always looked at the Michigan game with a certain dread.