Chief among them, of course, is the rapidly growing file of evidence that one-day internationals have at sundry times and in diverse places been fixed. If the current judicial inquiry in Lahore does not prove it, heaven knows what will, but the more cricketers admit to having been approached by illegal bookmakers and asked either to give information or, far worse, to influence the outcome and conduct of matches, the more likely it seems that some cricketers have succumbed to temptation and taken large sums of money to cheat not only their team-mates but unwise gamblers, ingenuous spectators and the game itself.
In Australia the reverberations from the Waugh and Warne affair are growing louder. From England Adam Hollioake has revealed, in an article in the Mail on Sunday for which he was paid the going rate for pieces by international cricketers, that he was twice approached by illegal bookmakers on the telephone during the Sharjah tournament a year ago.
Hollioake was told that he could make himself a millionaire if he divulged information about the match against India and used his influence as captain to ensure that certain bowlers operated at certain times. Such matters as who would be in the England team and what he would do if he won the toss were also, obviously, worth a great deal of money to his would-be benefactor.
Hollioake told him, in so many words, to jump in the nearest lake and was wise enough also to inform David Graveney, the manager of England on that tour and chairman of selectors. He feels now that England's subsequent victory in the tournament, also involving India, Pakistan and the West Indies, was devalued by the lingering suspicion that not every side were always trying as hard as England.
That thought is depressing beyond expression. It is well known that wealthy folk in India will bet on almost any aspect of a game of cricket, such as the way a batsman will be out or the precise number of runs he will make, and the stories of skulduggery in internationals played in particular by and between India and Pakistan have been in constant circulation.
Sharjah has often been the scene of suspicious events and Pakistan's failure to chase a modest total of 215 set by England in the tournament last December, not to mention some strange fielding lapses in their match against India, raised eyebrows at the time.
In the space of a few months last year there was an Asia Cup in Bangladesh, a Sahara Cup in Toronto, a President's Cup in Kenya, a Wills quadrangular tournament in Pakistan and the Champions Trophy in Sharjah. For many years it has been obvious that the ICC should have been cutting back on these spurious competitions, but television revenue and the greed of the relatively few people who make a great deal of money from them - not to mention the gamblers who exploit them - have prevented proper control of both quality and quantity.
Such has been the reaction to the Warne and Waugh affair, there will be an inclination to put the matter of third umpires - their purpose, their methods and their powers - low on the list of priorities. Certainly they will have to come lower on the agenda than a thorough debate about match fixing and the need for a far more open governance of cricket by the co-ordinating world body. But the third umpire is the child of the ICC and if the timing of England's protest was questionable, the points made by Gooch, in writing at Reid's request, were legitimate.
Third umpires have to be experienced - not newcomers with experience of only two first-class matches like Paul Angley, the unfortunate young man who gave Mike Atherton out far too hastily when there had to be some doubt about whether Mark Taylor had unwittingly knocked the ball up on the half-volley.
Equally, all who are to be given this arbitrary role in future need to be given a thorough tutorial in the various nuances of the television director's art. Not until a borderline incident has been studied from a sufficient number of angles to enable the third umpire to make a decision on grounds of virtually irrefutable evidence should he press the relevant button. And if he is not sure, he has to say not out, observing the time-honoured principle that the batsman gets the benefit of the doubt.