When Len Hutton won the toss and invited Australia to bat first in Brisbane on the morning of 26 November 1954, no-one could have predicted that a typhoon was about to unleash its fury on Australian cricket. The first innings was declared closed at 601/8 and England was dismissed twice, 154 runs short of that total. A gentle zephyr toiled for more than two days in the heat, bowling 29 eight-ball overs for an analysis of 1 wicket (that of Richie Benaud, incidentally) for 160 runs. Not much there to suggest what was to come! 
Frank Holmes Tyson was born in Farnsworth, Lancashire, on 6 June, 1930. He attended Queen Elizabeth Grammar School and subsequently graduated in arts from Hatfield College within the University of Durham, majoring in English literature. After national service at Catterick in North Yorkshire, he decided on a professional cricket career, and applied to join the staff at Old Trafford. The committee invited him to train with the Lancashire squad, but took little interest thereafter, and he transferred to Northamptonshire where he remained for the rest of his career in England.
Frank played his second first-class game against the Australian touring party in 1953, and, in four balls, had been snicked over slips for four, gained a leg before decision, sent a wicked bouncer whistling past the batsman’s nose and, for good measure, scattered the stumps with an irresistible yorker. He was, according to many experts, the fastest bowler for a generation – perhaps ever – but his erratic line and length kept him out of the Ashes series that year. When he began his run he was separated from the wicketkeeper by 100 metres, and he decided to reduce it for the start of the next season. He maintained his blistering pace, but greater control brought him a number of early wickets, and he was selected to play his first test match – against Pakistan. He did not set the world on fire, but bowled with sufficient menace to gain selection for the 1954-55 tour of Australia. 
After his discouraging debut, Frank entered the lists for the second test at Sydney. He ducked into a bouncer while batting and received a fearful blow on the head - no helmets in those days! – but returned with a vengeance, bowling Australia out (in tandem with his Lancastrian team mate, Brian Statham) 38 runs short of victory. Thus he gained the sobriquet, ‘Typhoon’, which inspired the title of his autobiography, A Typhoon named Tyson. The third test, at Melbourne, was distinguished – if that’s the word – by a controversy, which is still discussed today, over the alleged watering of the wicket during the match. It was also the scene of Frank’s finest cricketing hour. He swept aside the Australian batting line up to take 7/27 and set up a memorable victory. After this performance he was instrumental in the winning of the fourth test in Adelaide, thereby securing the coveted Ashes. 
This was to prove the high point of his career. Although he returned to Australia in 1958-59, he did not regain the heights of his first campaign. He played the last of his 17 tests in New Zealand in 1959, and the next year he emigrated, settling in Melbourne with his Australian wife, Ursula. In those 17 tests, Frank took 76 wickets. In all first class games, he took 767 wickets at an average of 20.8. He was no mean lower order batsman either, having a highest score in tests of 37 not out, and passing 50 13 times in 244 games with Northants, with a top score of 82. 
He had applied to a number of schools, but chose Carey because, as he said, ‘it was the only school that assured me of a warm welcome’; and he joined the staff in 1962, teaching French, English and history, and coaching under age cricket for a number of years before taking charge of the First X1. His expert tuition contributed significantly to Carey premierships in 1970 and 1975. He coached hockey and soccer in the winter and was housemaster of Fullard House. In the midst of all this activity, he was engaged as a commentator at the ABC and Channel 9, where his incisive and knowledgeable remarks, couched in felicitous phrases, enhanced the quality of broadcast and telecast alike. In fact they – with accompanying literary quotations - were often an extension of the observations he made in the English dressing room when times were tough – as they frequently were. He never quite went to the lengths of Henry V’s rallying cry at Agincourt: ‘He that hath no stomach to this fight, let him depart’; but he reminded his team mates that Tennyson’s declaration that: ‘… (we are) one equal temper of heroic hearts’, is not a bad way to go out into the hot sun for a day’s toil on an unresponsive wicket.
He wrote no fewer than 20 books, focussing on all aspects of cricket; and some of the titles show a whimsical flair, The Hapless Hookers (an account of the 1976 West Indies tour of Australia), being a prime example. His style was elegant and fluent, and his clear perception and understanding of the game made his writings a joy to read. He contributed significantly to the long and distinguished canon of cricket literature, proving a worthy companion for John Arlott, Neville Cardus, Jack Fingleton, Johnnie Moyes, and many others in that illustrious company. 
He was much sought after as a public speaker and his exposition was always wise, eloquent and characterised by an exuberant wit.
Frank left Carey in May 1975 to take up the newly-established position of Director of Coaching for the Victorian Cricket Association. During his time at the helm Victoria won the Sheffield Shield twice. He was instrumental in setting up the Australian National Accreditation Scheme for coaches, and travelled extensively in the sub-continent, teaching coaches at the Indian National Cricket Academy so successfully that he was promoted to coach of the Sri Lankan World Cup national team.  
After retirement from a full and active life, intimately associated with the game he loved and which he adorned, Frank retired with Ursula to the Gold Coast, where, as he often said, ‘I could wake up to sunshine every morning’.
Frank suffered from severe arthritis in his latter years – a legacy of the battering fast bowling had inflicted on his body – and he died on 27 September 2015 surrounded by his family. Ursula survives him, as do their children, Philip, Sara and Anna, and eight grandchildren. The Carey community extends best wishes to them and joins them in mourning their loss.

9 March 2016
(David Morgan in collaboration with Mick Boyes and David Lord)