``You've got to be prepared to - if you like - die for your country. That's what we've got to find,'' said the just-stepped-down Middlesex captain and novice England selector, reclining in a bucket seat in the front row at Lord's to catch the last rays of a lowering sun. ``We don't want these pretty players - it's great, it's lovely - but when it comes down to battle they aren't prepared to stand up and be counted. When I was out there, it was either them or you. He had the ball. I had the bat. I didn't want to come second. That's what it's about.''

There is something Napoleonic about Gatting. This is partly because he is, as he puts it, ``short and wide''; a description he would dearly love to apply to Shane Warne's bowling this summer. It is also because he is a classic warrior, unflinching, stout-hearted, generous to his team-mates, belligerent to the enemy. A man for both the trenches and the bar.

But he possesses none of the French emperor's self-regard. Less likely to be stuffed with hubris than Yorkshire pudding, his informed and forthright command of the selectorial process, alongside Gooch and Graveney, has already brought us the double Hollioakes and triple one-day victory against the Australians.

Last Saturday, the triumvirate came meaningfully together again. ``We met in a little hotel in Peterborough, because Athers was somewhere up there playing. We had a little trundle up there so we could look each other in the eye and see who meant what.''

Gatting hadn't expected deliberations to last long nor that they would intrude on a ``nice bottle of red somewhere along the line''.

It sounds like a garden party, but then so does English county cricket sometimes. That rattle you hear is less likely to be sabres than the ice on the drinks tray. Gatting would like to sweep gentility away, create two divisions and introduce three-up, three-down relegation. But first he would like to pick the team who win the Ashes.

``We as selectors can only pick the guys we think can do the job. We, unfortunately, can't perform for them. We can't go out there and show our pride and passion playing for our country. They've got to go out and do it themselves and it was great for me to see 11 guys out there showing the discipline, pride and passion in the one-dayers.

``We thought Ben Hollioake was worth being there. So what he's 19? The way forward is with young cricketers who are keen, enthusiastic and want to represent their country.'' Or rather, one of their countries. Gatting staunchly refuses to be moved by the irony that the Hollioakes, Adam and Ben, were Australian-born. ``Um, it's just unfortunate,'' he said, showing proper sympathy for those reared 9,000 miles from the Norfolk Hotel, Enfield, where he will celebrate his 40th birthday shortly.

``They were born over there but they were actually brought up on the English system. But it does show that we've got to get into our youngsters the same combativeness, competitiveness, belief. I think we've got to make people appreciate there are disciplines to be learnt and identify the guys who wanna battle.

``I do get a bit concerned about the younger guys. Whether they get a lot of things far too easily. Instead of pushing players, I think we tend to leave them in their age groups far too long. I wouldn't like to spoil their childhoods but get them to grow up a little quicker. In the cricketing sense as opposed to the. . .disco sense.''

It is not known whether Gatting's maturity was acquired in the nets or on the dance floor of the Tottenham Empire. But a good deal of his youth was spent at Lord's, that much is certain. At 13, he attended his first Middlesex match. Four years later he was playing, out for 16 against the bowling of the West Indian Test player, Vanburn Holder. ``No helmets,'' remembered Gatting, wistfully.

He made his debut for England at 20 in 1977 in Pakistan where he was out ``lbw to Shakoor Rana''. Since the named gentleman was an umpire as opposed to a bowler there is obviously a history here, and one of the many colourful events of Gatting's long career involved his finger-wagging, asterisk-necessitating explosion on the field in Pakistan in 1988. Not best pleased, the England nabobs sacked him.

But nothing can detract from the glow of the highlight: captaining the England team who won the Ashes in Australia in 1986. A tour that began inauspiciously - ``we couldn't bat, couldn't bowl, couldn't field'' was transformed by a rare outbreak of luck, togetherness and tigerish self-belief. ``People had written us off. It was a horrendously long trip. And about 14 minutes before the third Test at Melbourne Graham Dilley came to me and said, 'Look, I'm not fit'. So I was rushing around, thinking, 'Christ, who are we going to play, Gladstone or Fozzie?' [Gladstone Small or Neil Foster].

``In the end, we went for Gladstone. Fozzie was very upset. And then when Gladstone came in and bowled the first over, it went all over the place. One down the leg side. One down the off side. I thought: 'Oh no. Wrong one, you idiot'. Anyway, four hours later we'd bowled them out and he'd got five. In fact, he actually took the catch at deep square leg to end the Ashes series.''

One of Gatting's greatest qualities as a captain was in creating sums greater than the parts at his disposal. The A-team tour to Australia that he coached when Graham Gooch was forced to withdraw was remarkable for its almost unremitting success. ``The Australian papers relegated us to the inside back page. Somewhere under the swimming results. That's always a great sign over there.''

His methods were relatively simple. They did quality work in the nets, played as though possessed and went out. Gatting is, at heart, a compassionate slave-driver. ``They weren't tucked up in bed at 9.30, put it that way.

``I'm a great believer that you've got to go out and relax. You can't be out on the field for six hours, concentrating, and not be allowed to relax. If you didn't you'd go crazy. The main thing is, you try and get everyone to go out together. The one thing you don't want is little cliques going off in different directions. I said, if I caught anybody doing that there'd be some bums kicked but fortunately it didn't happen.''

He is surprisingly hot (especially for a man I seem to remember in a wide-brimmed white hat at which even Mrs Shilling might have baulked) on the new dress code. ``You've got kids here watching the game. And if somebody's out there looking smart and performing well, it gives a better impression that someone half-shaven, with a dirty floppy on, looking like death warmed up, misfielding.

``It's like you ladies, if you look nice and smart, you feel better don't you?'' I, who foreswore ironing in 1974, became a touch self-conscious suddenly. ``Well, don't you?'' said Gatting pugnaciously. ``If we were going to get very, very personal here, you wouldn't want to go out without shaving your legs or anything, would you?''

I don't think this means that Mike Atherton will be issued with tubes of Immac hair remover in the dressing-room but it is indicative of Gatting's philosophy. ``I'm straightforward, yes. I'm patriotic, yes. I don't like to see selfishness, laziness or lack of spirit. Even mavericks can conform.''

If you can trust the rumours in the byzantine world of the cricket committees, David Lloyd might be uninvited to be the England coach if the team are adjudged to fail this summer. Concomitantly, Gatting might be invited to apply. ``Ha, ha, that's news to me,'' he said, wise in the ways of rumours, whispers and barmaids. ``As far as I'm concerned, David's got a contract until whenever. I have no devices to do anything else. All I would say is I enjoyed doing the A team thing last year but I've no devices to do anything else at all. I'd like to get involved with Middlesex on the coaching front and if there is a job for me to do at England level, or England A, then I'd be very happy to take something on.''

What he would really like to take on is the Australians again. But age, girth and realism have thwarted him. At least he can reflect that in 22 years at Middlesex, 14 as captain, and 79 Tests he met his challenges (not to mention Malcolm Marshall's bouncer) head on.