Thetownend.com

I just happened to see what our friends from oop North have been up to - they're all in a bit of trouble...let's pray for big points deductions coming up and see if we can get Gerry Taggart in a fight when he come to the County Ground on 30 April...

Carlisle's Adver:

Simon Cowell was presumably onto the Latics’ high command at first light today to snaffle the rights. Where else last night, for the cost of less than a pint, could more than 8,500 spectators take in a tenor’s rendition of Nessun Dorma, an hour-and-a-half of competitive League One action and then an eruption of touchline violence which left the audience wondering if Ricky Hatton had been smuggled into the ground in an Oldham tracksuit?

Gerry Taggart, the pugilist masquerading as Paul Dickov’s assistant manager, can expect the mother of all touchline bans and fines for the astonishing acts of aggression which, in a perfect world, wouldn’t have taken a jot of attention away from United’s triumphant display and Craig Curran’s expertly-poached winning goal.

Ronaldo, the newly-retired Brazilian legend, was once compared by the Observer writer Paul Hayward to a cork flying from a bottle on account of his lacerating pace. Taggart’s sprint from technical area to turf in the 83rd minute brought similar images to mind and would have pushed the great South American close for velocity.

Once he had reached his destination – a shoving melee of rival players – Taggart morphed into an angry middleweight throwing a flurry of haymakers, one of which connected with Tom Taiwo’s face. James Berrett and Ben Marshall also appeared to take shrapnel wounds from Taggart’s fusillade before calm eventually descended.

Dickov’s accomplice was first restrained (Gerry and the peacemakers) and then finally sent from the dugout by referee Mark Haywood. Footage of the rumpus, once studied by officialdom, ought to see the 40-year-old Taggart in a steaming vat of hot disciplinary water. As his players grappled with their opposite numbers and tried to dodge Taggart’s flying fists, Greg Abbott watched the skirmish from a distant seat in the stand, as he served out a one-match touchline ban for a considerably less serious felony at Southampton three days earlier.

When Taggart was going about his demented work, in a rain-splashed scrum that was triggered by an angry tangle between Lubo Michalik and the home substitute Warren Feeney, some of the home fans could be heard chanting “Gerry, Gerry.” Pedestrians passing Boundary Park at this point would have assumed The Jerry Springer Show, with its on-stage family brawls and deep moral recriminations, had descended on Oldham’s 115-year-old arena.

United’s players and manager sensibly slotted into diplomatic mode when asked for their version of the contretemps at close of play, but privately there was wide-eyed bewilderment among the Cumbrians’ contingent at the behaviour of one of the men who, at Dickov’s side, has helped the Latics fly into this season’s promotion race. Oldham’s manager was known for his spikiness as a player but Taggart leaves his boss for dead in the malevolence stakes.