Faith and discipline intertwine for champion Irish step dancer

DEDHAM -- To Daniel Sullivan, dancing is a form of prayer.

The 18-year-old has been a champion Irish step dancer since he was three. He has won the New England Oireachtas (Irish dance championships) 12 times, most recently last November. His earliest memory is dancing on his family's deck at age three. A YouTube video of him doing so went "pretty viral," he recalled. Raised in St. Oscar Romero Parish in Canton, his Catholic faith is irrevocably linked to the heritage of his maternal grandparents, who came to Roslindale from Ireland when they were just a few years older than he is now.

He said he prays before every performance.

"There's God and Jesus behind me in everything that I do," he said, "and they're giving me strength."

Normally, at this time of year, he'd be preparing for his annual performance during the St. Patrick's Day Mass at St. Theresa Parish in Sherborn. This year, however, he will be performing near Villanova University, where he is a freshman studying economics. Even when he has a career in that field, he says he'd still like to dance and he's always wanted to be an Irish dance teacher.

"There's not a moment of the day that I'm not thinking about dance," he said.

On March 7, Sullivan's last day on break before returning to Villanova, he practiced in the basement of the Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd in Dedham. He practices six to eight hours per week. Now that he's on his own without an instructor, practicing requires more discipline than ever. His fiberglass-tipped dancing shoes clacked on the floor of the church basement as he laid mats and planks of wood on the epoxy floor.

Typically, he practices in the church hall, but it was unavailable. The CD "The Whispering Door" by accordionist Michael Fitzpatrick did its best to drown out the organ music upstairs. Sullivan's dancing was loud enough to be heard across the street from the church.

"I know that dance is always something that I can go to if I'm ever having a stressful week," he said, "or if I'm ever angry at something, I know that there's a studio nearby that I can always just go and just dance."

His posture has to be perfect. In hard shoes, his dancing must be loud and powerful. In soft shoes, it has to be "light and bouncy." It's hard for him to clear his mind when he dances. In championships, when the room is completely dark save for the bright lights shining down on him, he knows he's being watched.

"Each time, it doesn't get any easier," he said. "The training is the same, the feelings are the same. It's almost more stressful each time, because I feel almost expected to win. But it's always rewarding when I win."

He was joined in the basement by Maureen Greene O'Leary, who has taught Sullivan since he was three.

"His technique, everything about his footwork is beautiful," she said. "It's improved tremendously over the years. He was a fabulous little dancer at three. He was actually winning championship-level competitions at three, which is really unheard of for children that age."

The Maureen Greene O'Leary School of Irish Dance also taught Sullivan's mother, her family, and his older sisters. He would watch his older sisters in class three times a week.

"I would just watch, and I was in awe, and I would just try to mimic what they were doing," he said. "I just love watching it. It's so fun. It's something that always caught my attention, seeing how you're able to express yourself through your dancing, and you're able to show your strengths and everything."

He has more anxiety about his dancing than he did when he was a child.

"I'm more conscious of what's going on around me," he said. "When I was younger, I had no cares in the world. All I knew is that I was about to go on stage and dance, but now there's more thought behind it."

He is a better dancer than his younger self, he said -- but his younger self was a better competitor. At the world championships in 2023, the stage was slippery during his treble jig, and his hip was bothering him.

"It was very hard to push through," he said. "But it worked out, because it was one of my highest placements at the Worlds."

There's a shelf in his basement with all his trophies on it. His bedroom dresser is where he keeps his medals and his regional trophy, "which is quite big." It's a big legacy to live up to.

"I take a seat, and I just think about everything, and I pray on it, and I just make sure that I know I can do it," he said.