MINNEAPOLIS -- Even the most casual of observers can’t miss Matthew Greco.

If you’ve seen viral videos of the University of Minnesota dance team performances on their way to clinching national and world championships in recent years, you’ve spotted Greco. He’s the team’s sole and first-ever male dancer, whose dizzying spins and dynamic flips always electrify crowds.

Google his name, and you’ll come across a common query that people ask: “Who is the guy on the Minnesota dance team?”

This is the dream that the 21-year-old business economics major had always envisioned for himself: Changemaker. Trailblazer.

“I wanted to be the first male on a dance team somewhere and make an impact for a younger generation of male dancers to prove to them it’s possible,” he said.

Fresh off Minnesota’s gold and silver medal wins at the International Cheer Union world championships in Orlando, Greco has become a national face of increasing gender inclusivity in a female-dominated sport. When Greco graduated from high school just a few years ago, there was a smattering of men on collegiate dance teams around the country, but none had ever danced for the maroon and gold.

At the high school level, boys in Minnesota were banned from participating on dance teams until 2019. Greco wanted to be the first man to break that barrier on an elite university dance team, in hopes of inspiring younger boys with big dance dreams. His ascent was fueled by the rise of social media; he boasts a TikTok following that would make many influencers salivate (over 134K and counting).

Why Minnesota? That was no accident, either.

“The first time I watched them, my jaw dropped to the floor,” said Greco, who grew up in New Jersey. “Cocky” isn’t the right word for the U’s style, he said, searching for a better descriptor. He finally settled on one: “Untouchable.”

“You just want to hold your chest as high as they do, you want to be that confident,” Greco said. “I’ve always looked up to the way they took the stage, the presence they had. I was drawn to that.”

As a teen, Greco learned to dance from three instructors who hailed from Minnesota, including Kelley Larkin and niece Danielle, who operate Studio L in New Jersey, where Greco spent thousands of hours honing his moves. He said his tight dance community there “idolized” Minnesota, which now holds 23 national championships. He credits his mom for always showing up for her son and pushing him to keep dancing.

Long before he ever joined a studio, though, he tried every sport under the sun. “I just hated everything,” he recalled. “I was out in the baseball field playing with the sand. I was not the athletic sport kid that my dad thought I was going to be.”

That all changed when Greco took his first hip-hop dance class when he was 8. As he grew more dedicated to the discipline, squeezing in five hours in the studio every day between school and homework, he fought cultural expectations of how boys should leave their mark on the world. He learned that other kids in school were calling him homophobic slurs. The comments stung, but he never retaliated.

“High school was a hard time. Males are supposed to be in football or basketball,” he said. “But now looking back, I’m almost grateful. I was bullied, but I was able to overcome that and be true to who I was. You can think that about me, and that’s OK. I’m just gonna keep doing me.”

One summer, he attended a U of M dance team summer clinic. Coach Amanda Gaines had heard of Greco’s interest in joining the team, but she had never given much thought to the possibility of bringing on a male athlete. Then she watched Greco perform. She took stock of his explosive tumbling skills, his exquisite turns.

“It was obvious right away that he was the real deal,” she said. “He’s incredibly athletic. There are very few things he can’t do from a skill standpoint.”

But she also had to consider whether Greco, as the team’s first man, would be accepted by the broader U community. Would Gopher fans ridicule him at football games from the stands? “It’s that mama-bear instinct,” she said. “You worry about all of your athletes. People can be mean. Anytime you’re ‘othered,’ you want to make sure you’re creating a space where they feel included and supported.”

It turns out that Gaines didn’t need to fret. The novelty of seeing a male dancer has even worn off a bit. Now fans just consider him an integral part of the team, Gaines said.

The coach also didn’t need to worry about Greco meshing with the other dancers, as the women were quick to embrace him. Today Greco considers them his soulmates. (“We are just 25 people of insanity,” as he puts it.) Recent graduate Taryn Pfeifenberger said Greco is the first to encourage his teammates whenever they’re feeling down.

“He’s the biggest hype man on our team,” she said. “He’s one of my great friends; I adore him. And it’s cool to see him put his mark on the U of M dance team and inspire future dancers. There’s been a significant increase in male dancers who attend our clinics. They see us, so they want to either be trained by him or be the next him.”

Has being a male helped or hindered Greco? Maybe both. He stands out because he’s a guy, but he says it also made him work harder — to prove he earned his spot on the stage.

Greco’s visibility exploded during his sophomore year. At the Universal Dance Association College Nationals in 2024, the team’s jazz routine to Aerosmith’s “Dream On” garnered the athletes global buzz overnight, including accolades from the band. Greco launched into a no-hands front flip, followed by a turn sequence involving more than a dozen revolutions on his toes, all with a gleeful grin. A video clip of Greco’s feat has been viewed more than 5 million times.

The team has enjoyed its newfound recognition, even though the NCAA does not formally consider dance a sport. Greco is now recognized on campus and has met countless strangers through DMs, including his now-boyfriend of one year, Garrett Gouyton, who cheers for Oklahoma. Greco also recently landed a name, image and likeness deal with Odele beauty products. (Yeah, he’s got great hair).

At the world championships, Greco and his teammates were swarmed by uber-fans from around the globe who clamored for autographs and selfies. It dawned on him how much influence his team was imparting on dancers everywhere.

For a kid who was picked on and put down in high school, Greco is proof that it does get better. And by kicking down doors, you can make another kid’s world better, too.

©2025 The Minnesota Star Tribune. Visit startribune.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC ©2025 The Minnesota Star Tribune. Visit at startribune.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.