Pressure on. Pressure beaten. And so, the first magic part of a trilogy that could transform little Emma Finucane into a heroine of British sport unfolded in the steam-room heat of the world’s fastest velodrome.

Three races in the women’s sprint. Three world records. A dazzling gold. And God Save the King.

If what Finucane’s talents suggest she might deliver matches this over the last week of these Games, the 21-year-old’s name will never be forgotten. She is going for a hat-trick of gold medals, an achievement never managed by a British female cyclist at a single Olympics before.

The Welsh girl didn’t complete chapter one her own, of course. She had two brilliant accomplices in Sophie Capewell and Katy Marchant. So dominant were they that the outcome never looked in doubt from their first turn of the wheel – or at least their first circumnavigation of the Siberian pine.

But it was the youngest of the trio who perhaps had the greatest burden on her shoulders, having won the world title at the ludicrously precocious age of 20 last year. That is a reason why she, alone, came here tipped by no less than Dame Laura Kenny to win not only last night’s bullion with the support of her friends but to carry off glory in the keirin and individual sprint.

She also had the responsibility to complete the final, golden lap on her own. This she did brilliantly, hugging the black line down towards the bottom of the steepling track as if it were a safety blanket rather than a tightrope.

‘I literally saw red,’ said the Carmarthen-born prodigy. ‘Obviously, Katy delivers the first lap and Soph delivers me for the last lap, and on that last lap I just gave it 120 per cent. Like everything I could. And that’s what it takes to win.

‘To break world records, you have to go deeper than you’ve ever gone before. And I found that, and we all found that, and we delivered. Under huge pressure. And we enjoyed ourselves too. We did it with a smile on our faces.’

There was a stage in the final against the super-quick New Zealanders that the British trio slipped behind. But how many really lost faith in the pocket rockets ultimately delivering over the three laps?

The cheers from the crowd, half of whom were British, played their part too. They roared the girls home, and then came relief. The time: 45.186sec. At the start of the night, the world record had stood at 45.487sec.

This velodrome is the widest there is and, therefore, conducive to speed, but make no mistake we were watching incredible sprinters.

Delight abounded. Marchant, mother of two-year-old Arthur, went over to celebrate with her family. Union Jacks were carried around. What a happy antidote it all was to Britain burning over the Channel.

Let’s not confuse games and war, but Finucane’s great-uncle Paddy Finucane, a Spitfire ace who died in combat off the coast of France 82 years ago, would surely have relished the scene.

As all the British supporters loved how the track programme started with a bang. The team’s first world record in qualifying laid a marker, if ever there was one.

So, into the first round proper and a match that pitted fastest against slowest, namely Britain against the Canadians. No contest. Despite seeing Germany and New Zealand break their new world record, Finucane came home with the then-fastest time ever, 45.338sec.

That was more than enough for the gold-medal showdown, a silver medal now assured no matter what was to come. But who was thinking like that?

A special word for Marchant, whose last Olympic experience ended in tears. She came eighth in the individual sprint, failed to qualify for the team event and ended crumpled on the floor after a heavy crash in the keirin quarter-finals in Tokyo.

She is also one of very few, if any, mothers to win gold in sprint cycling. ‘It’s grounded me,’ said the 31-year-old former heptathlete from Leeds of parenthood. ‘I just get small windows of time when I get away from Arthur and ride my bike. It allows me to be just Katy again.’

The final member of the triumvirate Capewell, 25, is from Lichfield. Her father Nigel, who competed in the Paralympics in 1996 and 2000, died in 2021. She carried his advice with her: ‘My dad always told me never to just aim for bronze because that’s what he did, and he got fourth. He bred that into me, so I was not aiming for third, let’s put it that way.’

That has long been the mantra of the British cycling team of marginal gains and lavish success. And so it was again.