Maybe Halloween had something to do with it, but I think the hustle of Mike Sillinger and Richard Park could easily explain the overall scariness of the Islanders tonight much better.

Ranger fans and the rest of the NHL will say, “Oh, it’s the Blackhawks, they haven’t scored a goal in three games.”

To them I simply say, “Shut your mouth, a win is a win.”

Despite some sloppy play during the last half of the second period and the first half of the third, the Islanders looked like a team that many fans can enjoy watching. Personally, I had high hopes for this team this year because I feel Ted Nolan should have been the Islanders coach right after his ousting from Buffalo, but anyway, back to Sillinger and Park.

Everyone knew the reason why Sillinger came to the Islanders in the offseason and that was Neil Smith. Not many know that Smith originally drafted Sillinger back in the day when Smith was working with the Red Wings. Unfortunately, right after the signing, Smith was sent to the unemployment line, but we still had Sillinger. Playing for more teams than any other player in NHL history, Sillinger’s versatility and experience on the ice should really benefit the younger players on the Islanders; while at the same time should add a ton of depth to the top three lines.

I always liked Park when he was on Minnesota because he embodied the Jacques Lemaire grittiness mold and hustled his Jim Paek looking tail off. When the Isles picked him up, I thought of him playing a role very similar to Shawn Bates, basically using his speed and scoring about a dozen goals playing on the third or forth line.

Tonight, Bates was paired with Sillinger and Park and I thought they looked great together. Their last shift in the third period in itself was amazing. Just seeing these three gritty guys, who are without a doubt very talented, but nowhere near superstars, hustle for the puck and cycle it behind the net before Sillinger scored a goal that put the Isles up by 2 goals in the third, made me smile.

Just to get this off my chest, I love this team, but they don’t make me smile all that often. They’ve broken my heart more times than the number of hotdogs that little Japanese guy eats in Coney Island every year and have put my stomach in knots every year except the first year I really watched them, which was 1992-93.

Trading away Pierre Turgeon, Todd Bertuzzi, Zigmund Palffy, Bryan Berard and countless other players is probably my biggest qualm overall, but getting rid of Peter Laviolette and not improving the coliseum for so long to the point where it resembles a mortuary is another.

So, in any case, seeing three hard working players paired on one line together and producing makes me forget about 15-year contracts, fish sticks and corrupt owners and reminds me of people like Turgeon, Derek King and Kenny Jonsson, that played their hearts out for this team.

But hey, maybe this year is different. Maybe my heart won’t get broken like a fat blonde on American idol who can’t hit a c-sharp.

Maybe.

At the beginning of every season my father tells me:

“I’m sick of being suckered in every year by this goddamn team.”

Well Pops, I am too.

I hope Ted Nolan, or “Tonto,” as my father calls him; can keep these guys motivated all season, because if he can, we might surprise a few people.

If not, I’m going to get my lollipops ready because I’m a born sucker [no pun intended]