Welcome to the Penis Olympics

As the XXXIII Olympiad enters its final few days, a writer takes a look back at bulges of note, and asks: Why don’t the male athletes tuck?
Welcome to the Penis Olympics
Illustration by Armando Zaragoza

It’s commonly known that an athlete can be as easily betrayed by their mind as their body. But at this year’s summer games, there was one Olympian whose shocking loss inarguably had nothing to do with his mental fitness—and who still walked away as a legend. The 21-year-old French pole-vaulter Anthony Ammirati’s dreams were foiled on Saturday when the bulge of his crotch clipped the 5.70-meter crossbar, knocking him back to 12th place in the qualifying track-and-field heat. “It’s a big disappointment,” Ammirati told the French Athletics Federation. “I was 100 percent physically”—I’ll say— “but I was missing a bit of pole vault.” A bit? We’ve seen the videos. Don’t sell yourself short, man!

Every four years, when athletes emerge wearing the ludicrously skintight uniforms designated for their teams, we all do the polite thing and pretend we don’t notice the ways they grip, tug, or otherwise draw focus to the body parts underneath. In Paris, however, the noticing was unavoidable, because for all the skill of this year’s athletes, their penises kept getting in the way.

Take this year’s swimming teams, who all sported uniforms seemingly masterminded by Bob’s Burgers’ Tina Belcher. If they weren’t flesh-colored, like Dutch swimmer Arno Kamminga’s, they were practically nonexistent. Or at least, not size-inclusive of the exceptional schlongs sported by athletes like Jules Bouyer. While the 22-year-old French diver’s package didn’t prevent him from coming fifth in the men's synchronized 3-meter springboard event, it certainly pulled focus when he attempted to adjust himself beforehand. He quickly went viral for wearing the Speedo equivalent of Simon Cowell’s shirts, and not, as he probably would have preferred, his talent in the pool.

"If some people find it amusing to look at my pants, that's their problem,” he told Reuters. “It amused me. That said, we mustn't forget that it can take the athlete out of his bubble and that it can hurt.”

This, ultimately, is the crux of the matter. While viral moments are all well and good, these penises have been actively sabotaging their owners. Instead of casting blame on people who have eyes, perhaps we should cast it upon limitations of our men’s athletic apparel. Why don’t men have sports bras for their junk?

As a cis woman, I can’t claim to know what it’s like to live with a penis, but the word that comes to mind is cumbersome. I can barely walk down a set of stairs without an athletic bra, let alone compete in any kind of sport unaided. But while women were quick to engineer a form of support for their protuberances, men are rawdogging their physical activity—and sometimes, having their dreams (and even testicles) crushed in the process.

“When your sport is all about getting your body over a bar and it’s a matter of millimeters!” tweeted Rennae Stubbs, ESPN commentator and Serena Williams’s former tennis coach. “My man! Call a drag queen! She’ll teach u how to tuck it!”

One such drag queen, the former Ru Paul’s Drag Race contestant Trinity the Tuck, actually offers an official tucking tutorial. When reached over email, she offers to assist Ammirati. “As someone with the same parts that hinder my job as well I can definitely give him a lesson or two,” she writes. “Anthony, feel free to DM me for a one-on-one class! I can help you make sure your pole is prepared for your vaulting!”

Robyn Withawhy, a London-based drag queen, has a simple five-step process that she describes as, “Balls up, sausage roll, wrap the burrito, X marks the spot and down under.” But when it comes to Ammirati, she says, “We've all seen the video, and I'm not sure any amount of tucking tape could have tamed that, ahem … pole.”

While athletic cups, commonly used in contact sports like football and hockey, protect a penis from contact with other people, there’s no mainstream male garment that protects one’s manhood from itself. Had Ammirati been better prepared, his legacy may have been shielded too.