It is the fate of the substitute fielder to remain forever anonymous. Whatever remarkable feats he achieves, the best he can ever hope for is a c sub in the scorecard, and any achievements do not count for the records.
Almost always, the substitute's role is unremarkable. Occasionally, he does something special. For example, when England beat West Indies at Lord's in 1995, Paul Weekes, a county journeyman at Middlesex fielding because Graham Thorpe had the flu, took two good and crucial short-leg catches. And at Trent Bridge in 1930, Sydney Copley, one of the most anonymous of all substitutes, took one of the most crucial catches of them all.
"On my arrival that morning the tannoy system was calling my name to report to the secretary's office," he recalled years later. "On arriving there I met the captain, Percy Chapman, and Jack Hobbs. I was asked how I would like to substitute for England. I was thrilled to do so, of course. I had done a lot of 12th-man duty for the Nottinghamshire XI so I was not too nervous, just a little. Hobbs soon put me at ease with a few kind words."
Copley made his first-class debut for Nottinghamshire against Oxford University the following week, but achieved little - and that was the extent of his first-class career. He moved north to Cupar in Scotland, where he was player-coach for six years, and from there to King William's College on the Isle of Man where he was coach and head groundsman for more than 30 years.
His role in cricket history is ephemeral and almost entirely unrecorded. But for one glorious moment, he was the story.
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