The sprint sensation turned the href="https://www.nzherald.co.nz/sport/olympics/">Olympic keirin final into a procession, the victory lap starting well before she crossed the line with both fists raised in triumph.
Andrews controlled the race the way a parent controls bedtime. There were tests of her authority and probes for possible weakness but never a doubt about who dictated the outcome.
Such was her dominance, Jon Andrews – coach, father, former Olympian – needed to see no more once the field reached the final curve of the track inside Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines Velodrome.
“I never even watched the finish,” he said. “I saw her come into turn three in the front, and you could just tell the other girls were going backwards.
“To ride from the front and basically hold everyone off, there’s not many riders in the world that can do that.”
World and now Olympic champion in the keirin, Andrews’ gifts indeed belong to an uncommon athlete.
Speed enables her to lead the fastest track cyclists in the world. Strength and power ensure she can respond to shut down any attack. Her length – the ability to sprint for long stretches – is almost unmatched.
And Andrews’ mentality, unshakable with a gold medal waiting at the finish line, enhances the entire package.
The 24-year-old thrives especially in the chaos of this disordered discipline. Once the pace-setting derny pulls always and six bikes crowd for the front, space in the sprinter’s lane is precious and tactics are as pivotal as talent.
Racing in the final one former world champ and two Brits who days earlier had edged Andrews for team sprint gold, the Kiwi refused to stray from that favoured black line marking the shortest route around the track.
The strategy was part study – a previous trip to the venue revealed wider bends than typical, meaning more energy would be wasted in passing from the back – and part intuition.
“I really like to race quite instinctively,” Andrews said. “It’s not so much about the classroom, sitting down learning – although that is really valuable. I love to just race on feel and go out there and be adaptable, so having the skills to do that is important.
“You run through the scenarios that could happen and then you just need to adapt on the fly. So that’s sort of what we did. It was a very amazing feeling coming through that bell and being in the lead.”
The sound signalled 250 metres still to sprint. But Andrews, like her coach, knew the race was essentially over.
The next time she passed that same point, her front wheel secured New Zealand’s second track cycling gold medal, the first since Sarah Ulmer won the individual pursuit in 2004. The following glide through the finish line, Andrews’ arms were sky high.
Eventually coasting to a stop near the top of the track, she was wrapped up by her mum – a national rep in mountain biking – then the silver fern. Upside down in the only mishap of the meet.
The Tokyo silver medallist eased down the slope, preparing to check the view from a step higher on the podium. First, though, she and Jon embraced. More daughter and father than athlete and coach.
“He ran over and he was right there for me when I finished,” Andrews said. “Olympic gold is an absolute pinnacle for so many sports, so to have earned myself one is really special.”
Minutes earlier, on the opposite side of the velodrome, it had been all business on the start line, the way Andrews would always insist.
“She’s actually quite a hard taskmaster,” said Jon. “I’m not allowed to call her any nicknames or anything like that – I have to call her Ellesse, she calls me Jon.
“There’s not a lot of hugging going on. The stuff that you might see at home, that’s definitely off limits here.”
But with a mutual dream realised, now the pair were at home. Jon spoke into his daughter’s ear, the way he had while balancing her bike before the race, and patted that black skinsuit.
Under his hand, Ellesse’s bib: No 221. Second in the keirin in Tokyo. Second in the team sprint in Paris. Now top of the world.
Kris Shannon has been a sport journalist since 2011 and covers a variety of codes for the Herald.
