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Lord's in the splendour of early summer does not feel much like a hanging judge's assizes but, when Wasim Akram tosses up before the World Cup final tomorrow morning, that is how the Pakistan captain might see the world's greatest cricket ground. Wasim, who has led his team of bobby-dazzlers with distinction, begins the day a free man. If Australia win he may end it with a noose around his neck.

There is pressure in all sports, but when other games players talk of high stakes and big points, they should remember what Wasim stands to win, or lose. A Pakistan victory, and the long-standing judicial inquiry into allegations of match-fixing by Mr Justice Qayyum will probably be swept into a Lahore gutter. Defeat, and heads will roll. The most prominent may belong to the captain who has brought so much glory to his country's cricket.

Nothing can take the edge off this match, or disguise its possible consequences. A very prominent figure in Pakistan cricket said before the tournament, in a phrase redolent of the finest pukka-sahib traditions, that at least four members of the current team are ``in the soup''. There is a determination that the truth must emerge, however unpalatable, and the all-conquering captain could be one of the casualties. The identity of the three other players will not surprise many.

It is not only followers of Pakistani cricket who hope that Wasim doesn't have to walk the plank. He has been such a great cricketer that hard evidence of perfidy will be hard to take. He has given so much to the world of cricket during a decade of sustained brilliance that his admirers may think, as John O'Hara said on the death of George Gershwin: ``I don't have to believe it if I don't want to.''

No bowler has exceeded his 42 World Cup wickets, or passed his aggregate of 385 in all one-day internationals. No left-arm bowler in the history of the game can match his 378 wickets in Test matches. Although nothing is set in stone where cold figures are concerned, for they take no account of circumstances, it is fair to say he is the greatest bowler of his type cricket has ever seen.

He has already been a World Cup winner, in 1992, when Pakistan beat England in Melbourne by 22 runs. Wasim, who took three prime wickets that day, remains the only bowler to win a man of the match award in the final. Now, at the relatively advanced age of 33, he has handled a team of gifted young players so expertly that he has earned the chance of collecting a second medal.

Wasim can't remember how many times he has been captain - ``three or four''. It's three, actually, which is par for the course in Pakistan, where confirmed friends become sworn enemies in the blinking of an eye. Under him they have played some of their most scintillating cricket, beating England 2-0 in 1996, turning over the West Indies 3-0 in 1997, and reaching the final of this World Cup in the most compelling style.

Even by his standards the captain has enjoyed a stupendous year. In the first Asian Test Championship, in March, he took hat-tricks in successive matches against Sri Lanka, and Pakistan finished winners. When he talks of retirement, therefore, as he almost did the other day, before the semi-final against New Zealand, it is best to take it with a bag of salt. Unless, of course, he is given no choice.

Until the High Court in Lahore reveals its findings, and it has vowed to do so as soon as the World Cup is over, it is best to tread warily. But there is no denying that something strange is in the air, and that we are about to witness some kind of reckoning.

The fact is, nobody really knows anything about Pakistan cricket. Ask any two people involved in it, and you will get at least three opinions. Rather like Italy, the country operates as an extended village where, in order to get something done, then a favour, a token, a bribe, call it what you like, makes daily life tolerable.

In a theocratic, militaristic society it is difficult for cricketers to remain untouched by the general corruption. Those players who are familiar with the outside world are privately appalled by all the conniving and skulduggery but there are always public attitudes to maintain in their own land. It is one reason why Wasim will probably live in England when his playing days are over. He is not lionised in Manchester as he is in Lahore, but he is treated with a good deal more respect.

Cricketers there are the most public figures of all, and held to account more vigorously than politicians. After Pakistan lost a quarter-final to India in the last World Cup Wasim returned to his home from Bangalore to find effigies of himself being burned in the streets. His family was roundly abused, and his father was later abducted. His offence was to have missed the game with a shoulder injury.

Before the first Test against West Indies in Peshawar two years ago a selector approached Ijaz Ahmed and told him he was playing his last Test. Ijaz, who is nothing if not a fighter, made 65 and Pakistan won by an innings. He is still in the side, batting at No 3, entirely on merit.

Pakistanis enjoy nothing quite so much as a squabble. The difference is, they're the world champions. How on earth, therefore, do they produce so many talented players, and such uninhibited cricket? The first-class game in Pakistan is sketchy, to say the least, and there is little money. Yet this poor country generates cricketers the way Russia spawns fiddlers, and each one has a style as personal as a thumbprint.

Just look at the current team: Shoaib Akhtar, the fastest thing on two legs, who runs in like a sprinter and tries to knock all three stumps out with every ball; Saqlain Mushtaq, the finger spinner who turns the ball both ways; Saeed Anwar, the gorgeous left-handed opener who plays strokes worth 10 runs for aesthetic appeal; Moin Khan, the sort of self-sufficient chap to be seen dodging bullets up the Khyber Pass; Ijaz of the powerful bottom hand; Abdul Razzaq, a fully-fledged all-rounder at 19; and the incomparable Wasim.

But are they good enough to beat Australia? Are they strong enough? A World Cup final against Australia at Lord's is a scholarship paper for any team. Sri Lanka found the answers last time, when the force was with them. This Australian side, who have been through the fire twice in the last week against South Africa, and are undefeated in six games, contain four of the greatest players to have worn a baggy green cap.

Top of the list is Steve Waugh, who will draw level with Javed Miandad on 33 World Cup appearances (one more than Wasim) when he leads them out tomorrow. Waugh's magnificent unbeaten hundred at Leeds last Sunday has rightly been acknowledged as one of the great one-day innings. Like his brother, Mark, Shane Warne, and Glenn McGrath, the man is a true champion.

Waugh is the only surviving member of the side who won the World Cup in Calcutta 12 years ago, when they beat England by seven runs. It will be the captain's last appearance in the tournament, and there are worse places than Lord's to make it. Neither he nor his players lack motivation. The memories of Lahore three years ago, when they lost after playing splendid cricket, are still sharp.

Only a dunce would proclaim the result with conviction. Having taken Australia before a ball was bowled when they were a less fashionable bet, and having seen them improve with the competition, this observer cannot change horses in mid-stream. It promises to be a cracking match, and aren't we the lucky ones?