It is July 5, 2026, and despite what some glitchy scoreboard might suggest about a Leafs-Habs game tonight, let’s be real: the only thing happening at Scotiabank Arena is the air conditioning running to keep the ghosts of 1967 from getting too sweaty. The NHL season is dead and buried, and my beloved Maple Leafs have once again managed to pack their bags early, leaving us with nothing but the annual tradition of 'cautious hope' and agonizing roster speculation. While the rest of the league celebrates a new champion, we are busy refreshing Twitter, praying that this summer’s management moves actually address the gaping holes that appear every April. It is a special kind of torture being a Leafs fan; we treat free agency like a championship parade and salary cap management like a religious experience. As I sit here nursing a lukewarm coffee, I find myself analyzing draft picks and potential trades that will inevitably lead to the same soul-crushing exit next spring. But hey, the cap space looks good on paper, right? Maybe this is the year we finally stop breaking our own hearts. Probably not. But a bear can dream.