The Fighter

By Dean Thompson

I arrived at Dilworth as an eight-year-old in Prep House. I’m now 55.

I did okay in class—somewhere in the middle of the pack. My excuse? I lacked inspiration.

Off the field, I mostly thought about rugby, stealing donuts on Thursday nights from the bread truck, hanging with the lads, and just trying to find my groove—trying to find some passion beyond sport.

After finishing Dilworth, I stumbled into the world of business.

Back in school, every Sunday I stood at the Panmure Market selling anything I could—large yellow blocks of Sunrise soap were a hit. I learned how to understand customers and read their mindset. They were awesome. I learned a lot.

In 1988, I started a golf ball company. I sold Korean golf balls to The Warehouse, and eventually they hired me as a buyer. That was heaven for me—no real rules. They just told you to buy stuff and trusted your decisions.

The Warehouse team was young, talented, driven—good humans. The learning curve was massive. As the company grew from one Takapuna store into a national chain, we went public in the mid-90s. Key people left with shares and retired. The whole vibe changed. We lost our soul, and we lost touch with our audience.

So I left. I started another company with a retired Warehouse director, trading in toys and sporting goods.

Meanwhile, I kept playing rugby. Through the North Harbour Rugby Ref Squad, I played in every grade, all the way up to the Senior North Harbour team. I clocked over 140 Premier games for East Coast Bays.

Rugby was the only place I ever felt true peace. I was fast. I could hit. I could be free. It gave me a sense of identity—at least in my own head. I was a loosehead prop for the First XV at Dilworth in the early ’80s, and played for East Coast Bays throughout my time there.

Rugby gave me structure, ambition, education—and a deep understanding of the human spirit (or lack thereof). It was therapy. I could be someone else on the field. There were no consequences, because it didn’t feel like it was really me.

In 2001, my partner and I moved to Hong Kong. I retired from rugby, but I was still wired for intensity. That’s when I discovered Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. It clicked instantly. It was like learning magic—like a drug. My only regret was not discovering it sooner, before retiring from rugby.

Dean in his prime.

My main business in HK and China was manufacturing skateboards, working with Walmart, Kmart, Toys “R” Us, and more.

In 2016, we shifted full focus to a new venture: Storm.

Storm Kimonos became more than a brand—it became a mission. A premium BJJ brand now used by elite fighters, Storm is also part of our work in veteran rehabilitation. We sponsor British Special Forces and support the Warriors Heart Rehabilitation Centre in Texas. BJJ has become part of the healing process, and I’m proud of that.

In 2019, Hong Kong got aggressive. Things got interesting with the riots. We decided to move back to New Zealand temporarily to ground ourselves, and by late 2019, we were operating from NZ.

Then COVID hit in 2020. Every single one of my customers and students shut down for over two years. My relationship of 27 years ended.

Coming close to what you see as total failure is eye-opening. Someone else might perceive it differently, but you need to protect that perception. I got humbled—almost destroyed. And no one knew.

What really got hurt was my pride, my ego, and my bank account. But you just have to keep fighting. Keep rebuilding. Be relentless.

Things are good now. The only way is forward.

Sadly on June 10th, 2025, shortly after his story was first posted on the Humans of Dilworth page, Dean lost his life after suffering a medical event whilst driving alone.

He will always be remembered as massive part of the Dilworth community and a top bloke.