Making a name for herself

The hyphenated first name had to go. ''Hyo-Jung" may have been a garden-variety moniker back in Seoul where she was born, but here in the United States, nobody could pronounce it.

''It's difficult to say," Halie Kim quickly realized. ''People are like, 'High-O Jung' or 'Hugh Jung.' "

How about Heather, suggested one of her California cousins? But Heather sounded too much like the blonde victim in a bad high school horror flick. How about Halie, then? ''I like Halie," Kim decided. ''I felt like Halie."

Halie was cool. Halie was American. And while her passport still may say Hyo-Jung, the 17-year-old Kim figures to be the top US hope in women's short-track speedskating at next month's Winter Olympics. ''Halie's skating unbelievable," testified teammate Apolo Anton Ohno, who's expected to add to his Olympic medal collection in Turin.

Kim, a dual citizen who didn't arrive here until two winters ago, breezed through last month's team trials, winning both time trials and three of six individual races to top the standings by nearly 40 points ahead of 25-year-old veteran Allison Baver. If she can squeeze through a pack of Asian rivals, Kim could end the American women's medal 12-year drought in the sport at Olympus.

Time was when precious metal came easier for the Yanks in a sport that wasn't added formally to the program until 14 years ago. Cathy Turner won golds in both 1992 and 1994, Amy Peterson claimed a bronze in 1994, and the relay team medaled in 1992 and 1994. But the Koreans and Chinese won all four golds and nine of 12 medals in Salt Lake City four years ago and have only gotten faster and deeper since.

Having Kim on the roster will be a bonus for a US team that's been thin on big-race competitors. With Kim alongside Baver and Natick native Caroline Hallisey, who'll be competing in her third Games, the Americans have a legitimate shot at cashing in on the relay, in which they were seventh last time.

Until last winter, nobody on this side of the Pacific had ever heard of the shy teenager who turned up in Colorado Springs barely able to put together three sentences in English. But after Kim won every event at the US championships and began slipping into finals at World Cup events, she quickly made it onto the global radar screen. That wasn't going to happen back in South Korea, where Kim was merely one face in a forest of helmeted hopefuls jostling for a place on the squad.

Unlike the rest of them, though, Kim had another option. Since her father had become a US citizen after spending 12 years in the Los Angeles area before Kim was born, she was an American, too. And she was talented enough to have a shot at skating for Uncle Sam.

At first, it was a star-spangled fantasy.

''I didn't really think about going to America and training there because I was too young," Kim said. By the time she was 14, though, she reckoned that the moment was right. ''My parents were surprised," she said. ''They hadn't thought about it at all. But they agreed."

Her Korean skating partners took her departure in stride.

''They knew a long time ago that I was very interested in America, but my friends were wondering why," Kim said. ''I'm an American citizen, I told them, and I want to go there to study and practice."

Her friends, Kim says, were jealous. Who wouldn't want to live in America without parental supervision? Yet the transition was far more difficult than Kim imagined. There is no Koreatown in Colorado Springs, where the US Olympic Committee's training center is located. Getting dropped into the middle of American culture in adolescence with only a mouthful of the language was jarring.

''It was kind of hard," said Kim, who'd left the States for Korea when she was a toddler. ''I cannot understand everything and I cannot answer everything."

The homesickness made her weep.

''I called my parents all the time and they called me, too," she said.

For her first year, Kim had to be home-schooled until she learned enough English to enroll in Colorado Springs Christian School, where she's currently a sophomore. The easiest adjustment came on the ice, where Kim soon found herself in the lead pack.

Out from under the heavy-thumbed discipline of the Korean system, where elite skaters were discouraged from full-time schooling or outside fun, Kim thrived, winning the US junior title shortly after she arrived.

''I like the American style," she said. ''There is more freedom here."

Her new teammates were quick to adopt her.

''Everyone is very nice to me," Kim said. ''They think I am little sister. Allison is my roommate and Apolo helped me, too."

When Kim was living in Seoul, Ohno was a villain, the slick operator who'd filched a gold medal in the 1,500 meters at the 2002 Games from homeboy Kim Dong-Sung with a ''Hollywood" reaction that drew an interference call and got Kim disqualified after he'd won the race. Now, Ohno was her teammate.

''At first, I was scared because he never smiled," Kim said. ''But he's a really funny guy."

Being a Mid-Pacific Woman was an odd adventure. In the Rockies, Kim couldn't find decent kim chi, the spicy pickled cabbage that Koreans eat with everything. But the ice cream was sublime. And it was weird to line up against her former countrywomen in a World Cup race.

''We are speaking the same language," Kim said, ''but we are different countries."

Once the starting gun goes off, there's no doubt about that. Short-track is a mad scramble, full of elbows and treachery, of sneaky moves and ''rubbing" in the corners that makes a NASCAR race look like a Sunday buggy ride. Though ''team skating" is outlawed, a lone American in the same heat as two Koreans or two Chinese is a mouse stalked by twin cats.

After a season's worth of being boxed out, cut off, and otherwise toyed with, Kim came into her own during last fall's World Cup circuit, which determined the Olympic berths for each country. At first, she seemed tentative, still adjusting to the fast lane. Was Kim just holding back, or was she intimidated?

''After the first two Cups, I saw her get real upset with herself over a few races and I was glad to see that," said Hallisey. ''I think she's ready to skate the way that everyone knows she can."

Her former Korean teammates figured her American sojourn would be something like an exchange program with blades attached.

''Everybody still asks me, before Olympics, 'Will you come back?' " Kim said. Only on vacation, for a month after the season ends in early April. She's an American girl these days, cruising the malls, watching TV, learning teen slang.

Hyo-Jung has morphed into Halie, but her old Seoulmates had best beware at the Games. This Mid-Pacific Woman knows how to talk trash in two languages now.