The Intruder

THE INTRUDER

While watching the news one night I was taken in by the story of a 12-year boy who fought off intruders in his home with a baseball bat.

This took me back to a dark rainy night in NJ where I grew up and a similar incident that I encountered when I was about 13 years old.

First, I have to say that my siblings, 1 sister, and 3 brothers were all wimps when it came to anything that resembled danger or the possibility of blood. I was the next to the youngest and if my family kept track of the stitches and broken bones I’m sure I would have my own entry in the Guinness Book of Records. I believe I paid for the new emergency room wing at Passaic General Hospital single-handedly.

So when there were trees to climb, walls to scale, or anything that presented the possibility of bodily injury my family always said, “Call Roy”. After all, I had all the hospital experience already.

One night we were watching TV at our family home. It was a typical night with the not so unusual thunderstorms with rain pouring down and flowing through the streets. My mom and older brother were in the living room with me and we were all watching TV as we often did. My youngest brother was already in bed and fast asleep. My father was working late and due home in about an hour or so.

The claps of lightning and thunder shook the house. Suddenly, my mother told us to be quiet for a second, saying she heard something in the cellar. We all listened intently and sure enough, there it was a definite noise from the cellar below. Someone was in the House!!!!!

We all went into the dining room where the door down to the cellar was. My mom leaned against the door with her ear. I was next to her listening carefully. My brother placed himself a good distance from the door safely between the back and front doors for easy escape.

We heard it again. My mom and I looked at each other and my brother moved closer to his escape route, opting for the front door.

My mom cracked the door open just enough for us to see down the steps. I peeked over her shoulder. There it was clear as day; the shadow of a man in his rain gear complete with what I called a fisherman’s hat. The flickering flame from the old coal furnace would make the shadow fade in and out as we peered down the steps into the darkness. My mom slowly closed the door and I put my finger over my mouth to keep everyone quiet.

In the corner stood my favorite Nellie Fox baseball bat, it was never far from my sight. For those who don’t know baseball or what a Nellie Fox bat looked like, it was a baseball bat that had a handle almost as thick as the barrel; the theory being that if you hit the ball off the handle you had a better chance of getting a hit.

I signaled to my mom to open the door. She asked me not to go down there, but why start listening to her now?

I inched my way down the steps; one at a time with my back against the wall. The adrenalin was flowing and my stomach was doing flip flops. The flickering flames once again allowed me a clear view of the shadowy figure from my vantage point.

As I finally reached the concrete I crouched with my bat in my hands ready to strike if I had to. My heart was pounding while the thunder and lightning outside added to the intense situation I was facing.

Closer and closer I crept toward the figure and then there was a sudden bang that startled me. I swung the bat with a vengeance as if I was trying to hit a Sandy Koufax fastball out of the park. I swung and swung and could feel the bat making contact as I yelled to scare the intruder off.

Once I determined I had administered enough blows I turned and ran. I made the twelve steps in two strides. Thinking I had just set the record for the long jump I soon realized that my brother had already made it to the front porch before I hit the top step and slammed the door shut.

Our ears to the door again, my mom and I listened for any sign of the intruder. No noise!!

Had I scared him away? Or administered enough blows to incapacitate him?

I opened the door and slowly moved down the steps again; this time with a little more confidence that it was safe. Still without light except for the flame from the furnace I approached the spot where I used my Home Run swing.

I yelled up to my mom to turn the light on. My bat readied again, just in case I needed it.

Thank goodness, no sign of the intruder!! There on the floor in front of me was a pile of clothes. I picked them up and put them under my arm and carried the clothes and baseball bat back upstairs.

As I reached the dining room my brother seemed a little braver now standing only halfway into the front door escape route. My mom asked, “Is he gone? Did you get him?”

I looked at her and handed her the clothes and said, " I’m not sure about that, but these clothes took a heck of a beating”.

She had a quizzical look on her face so I explained to her that the clothes she hung in front of the furnace made the shadow and there was no intruder. The noise was probably the pipes heating up.

When it sunk in what had just happened we all had a good laugh and this story has become favorite lore around the reunion table for my family.

My dad arrived home and we were there watching TV as he came in the door and asked, “what’s new?” Almost in unison, we all responded “not much the same old thing”.

We finally told him the story a few days later and he just laughed.

As long as we lived in that house my Nellie Fox bat stood in the corner ready for the next intruder.