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It hardly matters that the Panthers are the defending Stanley Cup champions. Or that they were extended to a winner-take-all seventh game. Or that there wasn’t a huge difference between these two teams, except when it counted most.

The only thing that matters is that it was the end for pc28¹ÙÍøon Sunday night. Finito.

All those damp dreams of a long playoff run vanished in a wisp. The redemption of a remarkable bounceback Game 6 in vain. Belief in themselves shredded, extinguished 6-1 in the most recent acid test of character, will and skill.

They failed it. In what is nowÌýan 0-7 Game 7 wasteland for pc28¹ÙÍøsince 2014. The better team in this Atlantic Division second-round septet rolls on after rolling over the Leafs.

Such a flat-footed performance in back-to-back home games is simply unfathomable. And inexcusable.

“I just thought we had too many passengers throughout the rest of the game,’’ a downcast Auston Matthews said afterward, looking back painfully at the 3-0 lead Florida had constructed in the second period.

“We just weren’t on the same page.’’

It’s the most outwardly critical comment the captain has ever made about this crew. Strongly suggestive of personal disappointment and maybe an element of betrayal from some teammates.

The same exasperation that drove Mitch Marner, in the second period, to yell at his bench: “Wake the f—- up!’’

They just couldn’t rise to the moment in the biggest moment in their collective Leaf-hood. Though coach Craig Berube, in his post-game testimony, didn’t agree.

“I don’t think the moment was too big.’’

The execution was, though.

But Berube hasn’t been here down through all these years of playoff crumble. It’s not his baggage, though he didn’t have much patience with the subject matter, either. From his perspective, it’s “between the ears, the mindset.’’

I won’t say it shamed them, but there is so much for the Leafs to regret: A 2-0 lead in the series squandered. Resurrection from a Game 5 debacle at home of no continuing impact. Scattered heroics that nevertheless amounted to a big fat same-old same-old.

Game 7 is cruel territory for the Leafs. None of the Core Four has ever tasted anything but ashes from it, going back to the NHL salad days of Matthews, Marner, William Nylander. They hammer your heart and shred your nerves. In fact, the Leafs had plenty of both heart and nerve at Scotiabank, in front of a leather-lunged if nail-chewing crowd with their towels and glow bracelets, transformed from the jeering mob of four days previous into idol worshippers redux. With Justin Bieber sitting behind the Leafs bench.

TorontoÌý— a team that had lost its No. 1 goalie to a suspected concussion in a Florida bushwhacking, steadfastly defended a captain shooting at half-mast, and failed at crucial junctures to seal off the pit and the pendulum of historical demons —Ìýjust ran out of second chances.

Passengers on this doomed flight quickly became a theme post-game, a parting gift from Matthews.

“That’s the right wording,’’ agreed Marner. “You can’t have passengers in a Game 7. It just sucks. We’ve all got to hold ourselves to higher accountability.’’

Neither Matthews nor Marner hung the horns publicly on anybody, however. But in the dressing room, they know.

“I think that’s how it feels,’’ said Morgan Rielly, the longest-tenured Leaf, in response to “passengers’’ as an outgoing condemnation. “I don’t think it’s because people don’t care. I don’t know what exactly it is.’’

Shall we revisit the scene of the crime?

The game got off to a furious pace. Unfortunately the Leafs spent almost the entire opening six minutes bottled up in their own end, obstructed everywhere they turned by Florida’s ferocious forecheck. Couldn’t get the puck past their own blue line, passes broken and errant. Which explains how Florida racked up seven shots to zip before any Leaf came within threatening distance of Sergei Bobrovsky.

Matthew KniesÌý— skating fluidly, apparently no longer stiff-hipped from the reverse hit absorbed on FridayÌý— finally had a decent chance but shot wide, as did Max Pacioretty, as did Nylander.

Plaudits for Joseph Woll (take them back later) who was the primary factor in weathering that storm, although the Panthers weren’t particular deft with pucks that got to the net, either: 11 of their shots blocked in that period, seven missing the target.

Chops for the D. But this was definitely not what Berube had in mind when he gave his charges the go-go speech (part 1, in the a.m.): “Passionate crowd, passionate fans, passionate city. But don’t get caught up in it, OK? Just do what you did in Game 6. Simplify your game. You’ve just got to get the nerves out the first couple of shifts. Play direct. Rely on your teammates. That’s what you’re playing forÌý— your teammates.’’

Adding about where he drew his confidence: “What I saw in Game 6 in Florida, what I saw in Game 6 in Ottawa. Patient, disciplined, simplify with the puck and playing to our identity.’’

The compressing Florida forecheck did leave Bobrovsky vulnerable to quick Leaf transitions through the neutral zone and forwards racing in behind defenders. Scott Laughton got in there with a backhand absorbed, Steve Lorentz tried five-hole to no avail as the Leafs almost caught up belatedly on the shot clock.

A penalty for too many men on the iceÌý— Chris Tanev coming off, Simon Benoit turning back toward the play instead of getting to the benchÌý— was vigorously squelched to end the period and into the second. Breathless tempo for nothing-nothing.

And this, Game 7 high anxiety, is what the players had described as whoopie hockey. “It’s fun,’’ Rielly claimed. “The nerves are there, but that’s what you want, the opportunity to play important games in the playoffs.’’

It was Rielly, though, who pinched after that penalty had been served, caught in no man’s land as the play wheeled around and Seth Jones — yet another goal from the rearguardÌý— with the rising wrister up and over Woll’s shoulder at 3:15.

Period from hell as it turned out, as Florida made it 2-0 four minutes later: Brandon Carlo failing to cover Anton Lundell in front of the net, and then a John Tavares pass to nowhere that resulted in Jonah Gadjovich opening up a three-goal lead, on a play that looked offside but the Leafs video geeks didn’t challenge.

The roof pretty much fell in on an all-around glum arena. Max Domi provided an ember of hopefulness, beating Bobrovsky early in the third, but a mere 47 seconds later Eetu Luostarinen restored the three-goal lead on a really weak goal that Woll should have stopped. Then another by Sam Reinhart.

Cue the boos. And the jerseys started hitting the ice.

An empty-netter by Brad Marchand just added insult to injury.

So begins the dry season of whither Marner and whether Brendan Shanahan’s head will be stuck on a pike.

Hey, here’s a thought: Run it back again.