Japanese Pole Vaulter’s Olympic Dream Crushed By His Own Penis

Japanese Olympic Pole Vaulter, Hiroki Ogita, has his penis to blame for costing him a spot in the Olympic Finals

There has never been a recorded incident of an Asian male wishing for a smaller penis… until now. Hiroki Ogita, a Japanese pole vaulter, can blame his already small sized phallus for causing him to foul during the qualifying rounds of the men’s Olympic event in Rio.

As Ogita made his dashing attempt to clear a height of 5.3 meters as part of Group A in the first round of Men’s Olympic Pole Vaulting, it became apparent that his leg had come in contact with the bar, then during his descent back to the ground, his shin grazed the bar, causing it to wobble dangerously.

After expert analysis, it turns out that it was in fact his penis that delivered the final blow which caused the bar to be dislodged from it’s holdings when Ogita’s dong decided to steal the spotlight and slap the metal. The pole vaulters arm then collected the bar as it began to fall.

After zooming in far enough to see that it was the Japanese Olympian’s phallus that caused Hiroki Ogita to not qualify, people around the world got a good laugh.

Photo Breakdown of Hiroki Ogita’s Olympic Pole Vaulting Phallic Fail:

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This is where everyone could sense that something was about to go wrong for Hiroki Ogita.

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There is a real sense of foreboding at this point.

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There’s Johnny!

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Oh, the humanity.

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An incredibly hilarious, embarrassing, and unfortunate end to Ogita’s hopes of getting first place.

As a result of the phallus foul, Ogita lost his place in the final.

During Hiroki Ogita’s second attempt, he was able to successfully clear the bar, but sadly he was only able to clear the bar by a height of 5.45 meters, leaving him in 21st place and ending his time in the Rio Olympics.

Can you imagine training for years to qualify for the Olympics, then having your family and friends fly out to support you as you compete for your country… only for it all to be thrown away by the one thing no man ever wants to let him down.

For those that believe that the death of Julius Caesar was the ultimate story of betrayal, this must come in at a close second.

I’m a writer based out of East Village, Manhattan. I work from my condo and local coffee shops (and a few restaurants with menus that are more unhealthy than licking a subway railing), meeting friends who have boats or boat access, touring the zoo for the zoo to visit my ex-boyfriends, and forcing my political beliefs on others at social events (kidding, don’t be one of those people.