It is August 10, 2026, and for once, the Toronto Maple Leafs are not actively breaking my heart on the ice. The NHL is deep in its off-season slumber, a time when my blood pressure finally stabilizes. While the rest of the league celebrates their recent champions and dusts off their trophy cases, we Leafs fans are left to marinate in the familiar cocktail of trauma and irrational optimism. The draft has come and gone, and free agency has offered the usual shuffle of faces who are expected to finally push us over the hump. We’ve seen the front office tinker with the roster, making moves that look brilliant in a spreadsheet and terrifying in reality. They say this year is different, but I’ve been hearing that since before I had gray hair. My fellow sufferers keep asking if this is the year the drought ends. I just tell them to look at the calendar: it’s August, the sun is shining, and the Leafs are technically undefeated. I’ll take that small victory before reality sets in come October. For now, I’m just enjoying the silence of the rink. It’s the only time of year I can sleep without dreaming of overtime losses.