It is late August, the dog days of summer, and the NHL is firmly in its off-season slumber. No games to watch, no buzzer-beaters to stress over, just the lingering, familiar ache of another year without a parade. While the rest of the hockey world looks back on the latest Stanley Cup champion or analyzes the major splashes made in free agency, we Leafs fans are doing what we do best: dissecting roster depth charts and convincing ourselves that this upcoming season will somehow be different. The front office has been busy, making moves to shore up the blue line and add some grit to the bottom six, but until the puck drops in October, it is all just theory. We have watched the draft picks settle in and analyzed every trade rumor with the intensity of a forensic investigation. My therapist says I should find a hobby, but what is a hobby compared to the cyclical, masochistic hope of a Leafs fan? 1967 feels like an eternity ago, yet here I am, already checking the schedule for opening night. It is not insanity; it is just being a fan of this team. Stay patient, everyone.