By now the 5’10 Kim is used to crushing players much bigger than him. But players of his size are supposed to be the finesse guys, the players who try to juke players, not weld them to the boards. Opponents still stuck in this mindset have had a hard time adjusting to Kim’s style.

“I can see that they get ticked off and annoyed,” Kim said. “I get in their heads a little bit, and it gets other players out of their game.”

Yet Kim is far more than just an enforcer. Others might appear more in the box score, but Kim’s high-energy, speedy play is critical for the Crimson to gain control the puck in the first place. Harvard is littered with gifted scorers, but Kim provides a crucial complement for others’ more visible playmaking.

“I get a lot of comments from people saying ‘boy, that Aaron Kim is not afraid at all,’” Moore said. “He’s not the biggest guy out there, but he’ll run through the boards to get to a loose puck or make a play. He’s someone who just has no regard for his well-being.”

Opposing skaters are not the only object of Kim’s competitive intensity. He is probably the closest thing Harvard has to the traditional, fiery senior leader. The other senior regulars, Moore and classmate Brett Nowak, tend to be more laid back, preferring to lead by example. That leaves it to Kim to speak up when necessary—a task made easier by the respect he earns on the ice.

“He doesn’t let things slide on the ice or in the locker room,” said junior Rob Fried, who played with Kim for three years at Deerfield Academy. “You respect him so much because of what he brings in energy every night.”

D-Tour

Things didn’t start off quite as planned for Kim at Harvard. Recruited as a forward, where he played most of his life, Kim saw his first collegiate action as a defenseman.

A season-ending injury to Graham Morell ’01-’02 left the Crimson short a defenseman. Desperate for depth at the back, new coach Mark Mazzoleni turned to Kim and asked him to switch to defense. It wasn’t the first time Kim changed positions for his team—as a senior in high school, Kim’s coach moved him back to shore up a shaky defense.

He wouldn’t leave the blue line for two years. And while Kim never turned into a natural defenseman, he remained one of the Crimson’s top six options at defense and held up well enough to give Harvard at least some semblance of depth at the position.

Yet the true extent of that sacrifice didn’t hit home until Kim’s junior year. There, finally in his natural position of forward, Kim found himself a rookie again—he’d have to relearn a position not played since his junior year of high school, and do it against top-notch college competition. The adjustment took a toll.

“I never felt that comfortable my junior year,” Kim said. “Playing forward, things move a lot quicker, and you have to react a lot faster. I wasn’t used to that.”

Kim has settled back into life as a forward his senior year. After scoring just once last year, he already has four goals this season.

“He never said a word about it, he just went out there and did his job,” Fried said. “He’ll do whatever the coach asks him to do.”

Kim’s Kin