Joo Sung and Jom Hee Kim are well-meaning parents who made a pact to always provide their children with the best of things. That meant when Joo Sung’s job moved the family from Korea to Burma, the couple enrolled their two sons in a distinguished international school populated with diplomats’ children. And when it came time for high school, the Kims saw to it that their sons went to America, to attend a prestigious prep school that would better their chance of success in the real world.

From the beginning, Joo Sung and Jom Hee gave their children advice, support and love.

They also gave their youngest son the birth name You Suck.

OK, so maybe it’s actually Yoo Suk, and maybe the kid primarily goes by "Yoo" now, and hey, it’s a legitimate Korean name, but it still sounds like an unfortunate mistake from otherwise loving parents.

Or maybe it wasn’t a mistake at all.

"The best thing my parents probably did," declares Yoo, 23. "People don’t forget who I am."

This is apparent when trailing the fifth-year senior across the University of California, Los Angeles campus. It’s a Monday morning, and as he strides along the sidewalk in his UCLA track warm-ups, he acknowledges classmates who call out to him every other minute — girls, boys, short, tall, white, black, Asian.

Bom Kim, 26, says that this is the kid brother he has always known.

"He’s incredibly charismatic. It’s funny, people are drawn to him naturally."

And Bom remembers it being the same when the two were attending Deerfield Academy, the well-known prep school near Boston.

Back then Yoo used his name to make friends and strike up conversations.

"Everybody very quickly was using his full name as a sign of affection," says Bom. "That name actually took on a positive connotation. … I’m sure it helped to be 6 foot 3 and huge."

Yes, Yoo’s physique can be somewhat intimidating. At almost 200 chiseled pounds, he’s like some sort of Greek god, and you can almost picture the crown of olive leaves encircling his head. He’s strict about maintaining his form, watching the amount of food he eats and restricting his intake of fatty foods. He wants to be in the best shape possible when he’s competing, and any added extra weight won’t help when he’s flinging his body as high as he can through the air.

But Yoo isn’t even aware that others regard him as being a Big Man On Campus or that he has a David-like body. And the stilted image comes swiftly tumbling down as soon as he cracks one of his gentle smiles or talks excitedly about dating his first girlfriend.

He’s the boy next door who grew into a giant, yet speaks earnestly about being a devout Christian and likes to spend time in his room playing guitar, dreaming of writing a screenplay or editing home movies on his computer.