THESE are the abiding images of Middlesex's pre-match routine at Lord's during the 1980s. John Emburey and Phil Edmonds driving round from the pavilion to the Nursery for nets (a distance of about 200 yards); Mike Gatting drilling close-range half-volleys fed by the coach Don Bennett back past him at shin-height before returning to the dressing room to devour several packets of chocolate bourbons while simultaneously pouring tea into a dozen cups in one continuous stream. ``Look, British Rail,'' he would say, gaily sloshing the liquid everywhere.
Hard as you try to write an article about Gatting without any reference to food, it is an impossible task. ``As it's your last season together, I'd like to interview you and Don Bennett over lunch,'' I said on the telephone. ``Great,'' said the rotund bearded one, ``let's go to The Norfolk, my local restaurant, the fish is gorgeous.'' And he proceeded to a eat a whole shoal of it for starters, followed by roast lamb, mushy peas, new potatoes, mashed swede, carrots, broccoli and fat chips, then his favourite, spotted dick with lashings of custard. At such times, he is like a pig in the proverbial.
In many ways, this was an ideal scenario as, with his mouth full, Gatting could not really say much, allowing Bennett, the most important professional influence on his life these past 20-odd years, to do most of the talking. A true all-rounder, having played full-back for Arsenal in the fifties as well as batting and bowling for Middlesex and playing golf off 11, Bennett became county coach in 1969 and, after a hesitant start, supervised Middlesex through the greatest period in the club's history - 14 trophies, including seven championships, 1976-93. The emergence of the teenage Gatting in 1975 was the catalyst.
``Gatt and Ian Gould arrived about the same time and they were two cheeky little sods who took a bit of keeping up with,'' Bennett recalls. ``The atmosphere in the dressing room had been a bit difficult and to be honest they lifted the place a bit, gave it a buzz.'' The team seized the County Championship the following year, having won nothing since the forties, and, assembled largely by Bennett, the Middlesex bandwagon began to roll.
Craft is seldom acquired without graft, however, and Gatting and Bennett were already a well-established double act in the nets. ``I first saw him in schools cricket aged about 14 and I remember he could whack it if it was over there,'' Bennett said, assaulting an imaginary wide ball with his fork, ``but he couldn't play at all on the on side. I invited him up to the indoor school at Finchley, where his dad worked behind the bar, and I used to do private winter coaching. He accepted he wasn't very good on the leg side and I said, showing my inexperience, 'OK we'll work on that 'til you're happy with it'. What I should have said is 'we'll work on it 'til I'm happy with it'. He was still there working on it three months later.''
And it was ever thus. Over the last two decades, Bennett has probably supplied more leg-stump deliveries to his fretting protˇgˇ than Steve Davis has chalked cues. ``Just a dozen more coach,'' Gatting would say, thumping one of his seven bats determinedly into the turf, oblivious to the impatient groundstaff waiting to take the nets down. ``Must make sure I'm coming down straight.'' He has scored 34,357 runs and 90 centuries, so the end justified the means.
They have much in common. A modest background, early school leaving, the Arsenal connection (Gatting played for the juniors with his brother Steve), the golfing bug, a rigorous work ethic, and a slightly old-fashioned adherence to discipline. They disliked slackness and sloppy dress, so when I turned up late for my first second XI match, then daftly ran out Bennett (who liked his little knock down the order) before he had faced a ball, he was not best pleased. ``Wear spikes when you bat in future,'' he grunted, staring at my shabby trainers. Gatting's first team talk once he had succeeded Mike Brearley's often laissez-faire regime, finished ``and don't forget there'll be no jeans on match days or away trips''.
They could both be severe - tending to initiate a hand-stinging catching practice if they sensed complacency - yet were also able to laugh at an individual's foibles: Wayne Daniel's incessant need to visit the toilet moments before marking out his run, Emburey's barrack-room vocabulary, Edmonds' habit of saying 'well I suppose I'm going to bowl immaculately again today' as the players took the field. Their straightforward, simplistic approach enabled an odd, diverse bunch of characters to bond as a team.
``Is there a ration on greens?'' Gatting said, ladling the remains of the peas on to his nosh-pile. His respect for the man he calls DB exceeds even his devotion to food. ``Don's been the best, most successful coach in the country for 20 years, been able to communicate with every level of person who's come in. Yet how often has he been used, talked to, asked things by the people at the top? Never. They've totally ignored him.''
What is Bennett's secret formula? ``A good team, and a lot of luck,'' he said modestly. ``It helps to be able to judge a player, to know what you've got, but the biggest thing is luck.'' Never a great fan of videos or intricate technical analysis, he grooves what you have rather than importing what you do not have.
Gatting originally planned to take over from the retiring Bennett at the end of the season, becoming player/coach for one year and allowing Mark Ramprakash to become captain. But his close relationship with Lord MacLaurin, his success in charge of England A last winter, and David Lloyd's loss of brownie points in Zimbabwe suggests a possible higher profile. And, as England coach, he would want Bennett involved, probably at youth level. ``We can't afford another 10 years not using him. We need him out there at under-17 cricket, festival cricket, looking for the next David Gower, Ian Botham.'' Which fortunately is what Bennett had in mind.
Perhaps because he was pitched into the job, he scoffs at the notion that Gatting has not had the appropriate experience to be England coach. ``The sooner they get him in the better. He gets people to play and he knows what he's talking about, and they know they're going to get a square deal.''
``Might have to pack up playing in a few months then,'' Gatting mused. ``That means I've got to get 10 hundreds this year. If I do that, there'll be a good booze-up afterwards.'' ``If you do that, I'll pay for it,'' Bennett interjected.
Simon Hughes's book A Lot Of Hard Yakka - a county cricketer's life (Headline) is available for £16.99 plus £2.50 P&P from Telegraph Books Direct, PO Box 1992, Epping, Essex, CM16 6JL, or tel 0541 557222 (8am-8pm daily.)