It was Todd’s idea.

Todd Kidd had the best ideas.

It was Todd’s idea to invent a new hockey skate, one that flexed so it didn’t pinch his ankle.

“He was convinced he could make a better skate than Bauer or CCM,” says Kevin Ripplinger, a University of Denver hockey teammate and roommate from 1995-99. “He swore he could.”

And it was Todd’s idea to spend 10 hours playing Frisbee in Central Park — what Todd called “the best possible thing you can do in New York City.”

It was Todd’s idea to become the mayor of a village at the Burning Man festival, which he did; invent his own language, which he definitely did; skip the whole Cancun ritual to spend spring break hitchhiking on a freight train.

“Looking back,” says Ben Heinrich, another Pioneers teammate from 1995-99 and brother in life, “now you wish you’d gotten on that train with him. He’d have a blast doing anything.”

Don’t you just know Todd would’ve worn that wide-brimmed straw hat only he could pull off?

“There was no one else like him,” Ripplinger says. “He was irreplaceable.”

But this time Todd’s idea was a doozy: Three DU hockey players and a baby in a rental home.

The house was off South Colorado Blvd. It had four bedrooms. Seeing how only Todd, Ben and Kevin were living there, Todd figured, Why not welcome in a buddy going through a divorce?

His buddy’s baby had just turned 1.

“My oldest was in diapers when we moved in with those guys,” says Devin Windell, who kind of, sort of knew Todd from their high school days in Fort Collins. “Now my kid’s 28.”

Thanks to Todd, Devin now says it was as if his baby had three godfathers. Later on, Todd would take Devin’s second son to the local rec center for 2-hour workout sessions.

“He didn’t have to do all that,” Windell says. “That’s who he was. He took care of his people.”

The kids referred to Todd as “Uncle Kiddsy.”

His DU hockey guys called him “Kidder.” His Burning Man folks called him “TK.” One guy, who spoke at Todd’s first memorial service at DU’s Ritchie Center in July, called him “the best guy I ever met,” and that guy had known Todd for eight whole weeks.

Nobody at the service knew who that guy was. And they agreed.

“I can’t even describe the positive influence Todd had on my kids,” Devin says. “He was incredible with my kids — everyone’s kids. He just had this thing where kids loved him.”

Everyone who knew Todd loved him. That’s why it has required multiple funeral services and celebrations of life in the wake of Kidd’s death on July 10. While working at the Federales restaurant on 29th and Larimer, Todd was shot and killed. A 14-year-old suspect, Steven Marquez, has since been arrested and extradited back to Colorado for trial.

“We’ve all been sharing stories about Todd to get through it,” Heinrich says.

There is joy in their grief, because they knew Todd Kidd. The stories and memories are accentuated by laughter and “remember when” … then long stretches of painful quiet.

Todd was 49. He was an artist, a snowboarder, Meow Wolf-er, a hockey player who ignited a run of Coloradans into the powerhouse Denver hockey program, brother, son, a man with “10,000 friends,” as one teammate put it.

Above all, he was a connector.

“The wings of his friendship circle were so large that he attracted every type of individual he came in contact with,” says Shawn Kurulak, another DU teammate. “You’d meet him once and never forget him.”

Todd Kidd was the best idea.

***

Ben Heinrich sees William Todd Kidd in his own two kids.

Even more so since July 10.

Blake, his daughter, finds her happy place on a snowboard, and she was introduced to snowboarding because Todd introduced her dad to snowboarding.

“Without Todd, my daughter never has this incredible passion she loves so much,” Ben says.

Jackson, his son, is a gifted musician. Ben walked into his son’s room the other day, saw the eclectic variety of vinyl records on a shelf and cried. Music, all kinds, was a passion of Todd’s.

“Now, I see it. Maybe I didn’t before. Now, I can truly attribute their interests to Todd,” Ben says.

Hockey players often survive in a hockey-centric bubble.

Not Kidd.

“Growing up in that world, you live and breathe it. It kind of defines you,” says Kurulak, a three-time DU captain. “He loved and breathed hockey as much as we did. But he also had so many other things he loved, as well. It was really cool. It helped you get away from getting locked in a mind frame of hockey, hockey, hockey.”

One Todd idea still gets the boys laughing.

In 1996, the Pioneers gathered for the annual end-of-season team banquet. No one could find Todd. Turns out, a spring blizzard was rolling through the high country, and Todd had skipped town and gone snowboarding.

“He didn’t mean to be disrespectful or anything,” Ripplinger says. “I think he just forgot.”

That was after George Gwozdecky’s second season as DU’s coach, a run that would last 19 years.

“He was one of those free spirits,” says Gwozdecky, who coached the Pios to NCAA titles in 2004 and 2005.

Snowboarding during hockey season was strictly a no-no for the Pioneers. Injuries and all.

Todd had other ideas.

“We would show up at practice Monday with goggle marks on our eyes,” Heinrich says. “It had to be pretty clear we were somewhere we shouldn’t have been on Sunday.”

Yes, the coach knew. Coach always knows.

“Todd, he always had a smile on his face. That’s what you remember,” Gwozdecky says. “And he was a really, really good player for us. You know — he almost spoke a different language.”

That was another Todd idea. You needed a translator for Todd’s version of English.

He described a slap shot from the point: “A sizzling laser beam.”

His (Volvo) station wagon: “That sick Volv.”

One of his roommates: “Jiggling jar of mayonnaise.”

Todd’s linguistic gymnastics often baffled his hockey coaches.

“Todd spoke a different language at times. He would say something and I would turn to an assistant and say, ‘What the heck did he just say?’” Gwozdecky says. “But when you’re around him enough, you start to understand how he would phrase things. He had his own language.”

***

The brotherhood of Pioneers hockey is why the program is what it is.

Coloradans like Todd localized it.

Kidd was a 1994 Fort Collins High grad, one piece of a machine with a record 10 NCAA titles.

“Especially when the Avalanche came to Colorado (in 1995), it changed hockey in the state,” says Gwozdecky, whose staff had Kidd in its first recruiting class. “We knew that, if we were patient enough, we could catch that wave of young talent in Colorado that were pretty good players. Todd was before that first wave. But he certainly was a part of building that wave.”

The Pios then were not the Pios now. In Kidd’s seasons, they won 22, 24, 11 and 26 games, some of which were played at Denver Coliseum before Magness Arena opened in 1999.

His boys remember a 6-0 win over rival Colorado College in 1997.

“CC was really, really good. We were in the midst of a tough season,” says Heinrich, the goalie to Kidd’s defenseman. “To shut them out was a great moment for our defensemen.”

Across 140 games at Denver, Kidd had 51 points and 265 penalty minutes, a team-high 90 as a sophomore.

“He was really good. The guy could play — big, talented defenseman. He was tough, mean,” Kurulak says. “Guys loved playing with him. He was intense.”

Decades after his DU career, Kidd continued skating in men’s leagues and alumni games.

“I hated playing men’s league with him because he was still rough and tough like he was in the ’90s,” ex-Denver captain Adrian Viedeman says. “I could tell why those guys loved him.”

Maybe DU hockey becomes college hockey’s premier program without Todd Kidd.

But it doesn’t without the rush of Colorado-born players that followed him. DU’s fifth national title came in 1969, its sixth and seventh under Gwozdecky in 2004 and 2005. Kidd’s freshman roster had two Coloradans. The 2004 national champs had six, the 2005 champs had 10.

“Ten years after Todd left, the majority of our lineup was Colorado players. Our captains were from Colorado. Our leading scorer was from Colorado,” Gwozdecky says. “Even though he never mentioned it, I’m sure Todd was very proud of that.”

Of all his ties, Kidd’s Colorado roots stood at the forefront.

“I grew up in Minnesota. And Todd talked about his legacy and his experience in coming up through minor hockey in Colorado in the same way that I would speak of my experience in Minnesota,” Heinrich says. “DU was a perfect situation for him. It made him very proud.”

The next celebration of life for Kidd is Aug. 24.

“Unfortunately, some of those memories are cloudy — until I get together with the guys and they say, ‘Hey, remember when this happened? Remember when Todd did this?’” Gwozdecky says. “It’s a very, very special group. As sad as Todd’s passing is, he is remembered very fondly by his immediate family and by his extended family at DU.”