The Switch
What stands out most when you hear stories about Brenden Dillon off the ice is how sharply they contrast with the version the public sees on it. There’s a genuine light-switch quality to him: One moment gentle and soft-spoken, the next a force you want no part of as an opponent.
With Brenden, his reputation commands instant respect and admiration. Yet the moment you meet him off the ice, you quickly realize the person you’ve battled against isn’t the same one standing before you.
Dillon has a switch.
"It's funny because, me and Jack always joke with him," Luke Hughes said, "When he was in Winnipeg, you watch out for a guy like that on the ice, and then you meet him in person, he becomes your teammate and you’re like ‘What am I watching out for?!’"
“It's crazy,” Brett Pesce said. “When I was playing against him, I always just like, ‘Yeah, this guy's, like, a nut job’, you don’t mess with Dilly. ‘Don’t hit anyone, Dilly’s on the other side’.”
And then comes the moment that same ‘nut job’ becomes your teammate. Suddenly, he’s not just someone you respect: he’s one of your best friends.
Pesce and Dillon didn’t know one another personally when the two signed in New Jersey in 2024. They were put in touch by their mutual friend, Brent Burns, and the two instantly clicked.
And they’ve been battling with New Jersey ever since. Just like all his former teammates say, Pesce is glad he’s on Dillon’s side of the ice now, because for all his softness off the ice, when that switch flips on the ice, you want none of it as an opponent.
And when Dillon sees a teammate in trouble?
"That guy is fiercely loyal, so if anybody does anything to his teammates, he's gonna lose it, you know?" Pesce said.
“I don't want to lie,” he added. “It's pretty scary. He’s got that look. You know, the lights seem to go off, and then everyone kind of just backs up.”
"I try and get him to flip that switch every once in a while off the ice," Schmidt says, adding he's always unsuccessful.
When you know Dillon as profoundly as his friends do, because of the way he invests time into people, there’s a whole other layer to it when that switch goes off. You recognize the man behind the intensity, which makes watching it unfold both intimidating and oddly funny.
“He's got this distinct look on his face when I can see when things, when the steam starts to roll around and pressure starts building before it comes out his ears,” Schmidt laughed. “The thing is, too, is that all of a sudden he starts yelling at somebody and the problem is I know him so well off the ice, like, for me, I start to, I have to turn away 'cause I'll start laughing.”
“He'll be like (to an opponent), 'I could kill you!' And I'll look around, and I'll be, like, I'll have to put my jersey over my mouth—because I'll be laughing so hard. Like, do not...You don't poke Papa Bear like that.”
Knowing Dillon gives you that rare dual perspective: the same player who can level an opponent, not just with hits, but with a single glare, is the same person whose kindness, loyalty and warmth off the ice make you grateful - truly grateful - to call not just a teammate, but a friend.