It is August 7, 2026. The Stanley Cup has been awarded, the confetti has long since been swept away, and we are firmly entrenched in the NHL’s off-season doldrums. For a Toronto Maple Leafs fan, this is our natural habitat: a place where hope is meticulously constructed only to be dismantled in the spring. While the rest of the hockey world enjoys the quiet, we are still obsessing over free agency moves and cap gymnastics. Did we get tougher? Did we fix the defense? Does it even matter? We have spent another summer analyzing bottom-six depth signings like they are the missing pieces to a championship puzzle that has been missing its corner pieces since 1967. The draft has come and gone, the big-name free agents have found their new homes, and yet, here I am, still wearing my lucky socks while doing laundry, just in case. The experts say we have a competitive window, but as any veteran sufferer knows, the Leafs' window usually just leads to a brick wall. Still, I will be here, caffeinated and cynical, waiting for October to break my heart all over again. What else are we going to do?