It is August 17, 2026, and the NHL is as quiet as a Scotiabank Arena crowd after an opening-round exit. With the Stanley Cup celebrations firmly in the rearview mirror and the draft and free agency frenzy settling into a dull roar, we are officially in the wilderness of the hockey calendar. For us Leafs fans, this is the time of year where we convince ourselves that the latest roster tweaks are finally the ones that will break the curse that has haunted us since 1967. We have spent the summer analyzing cap hits and depth signings, clinging to the familiar narrative that next year—truly, this time—will be different. Watching the rest of the league celebrate their recent champions only sharpens the sting, but such is the life of a Toronto supporter. We are experts at enduring the heat of summer while shivering at the thought of another spring heartbreak. So, we wait. We wait for training camp to provide new reasons to believe, and eventually, new ways to suffer. It is a grueling, cyclical existence, but somebody has to keep the faith. At least for today, the misery is strictly hypothetical.