If you have been around any Toronto Maple Leafs fan for longer than three seconds, you may have noticed that they have what you might call the world’s funniest case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Despite being the punchline of the same “plan the parade!” joke the rest of the country has made for fifty years, the Leaf fanbase spends most of its time emotionally crouched with its hands over its head waiting for something to explode.
This is understandable. The history of the franchise since 1967 has been a bit like the third act of a Home Alone movie, where Marv and Harry get shocked and burned and hit in the face with a brick.