Longest Home Run Ever Hit

One of the most common question asked here at Baseball Almanac is who hit the longest home run ever. Where was it hit? And, how far did it go?

Few people like the response given because, unlike other baseball stats, it is the farthest thing from perfect as illustrated by this superb article called Long Distance Home Runs written by William J. Jenkinson.

Baseball Almanac Top Quote

"You guys got to see this kid we have in camp. Out of class C ball, hits 'em both ways, five-hundred feet both ways! You've got to see him." - Bill Dickey

Long Distance Home Runs

by William J. Jenkinson 1996

This article appeared in The Home Run Encyclopedia and is sole property of the author. If you enjoy the article, and other information about home runs please consider buying the book which was written & researched by SABR.

As long as baseball has been played, observers and participants alike have been fascinated with those rare individuals who have been capable of batting balls farther than others of their time. As long ago as opening day 1883, there is information describing the excitement generated by Hall of Famer Roger Connor, who struck an unusually long home run at the original Polo Grounds in New York. This feat was accomplished at a time before home runs were hit with enough frequency to be considered a regular part of the game. This is dramatized by the fact that Connor's blow was the only home run he would hit that season. And yet, everyone in attendance was apparently moved to awe and admiration by this single event, which resulted in the scoring of the lone run. By looking back, we can confirm the preoccupation with long-distance hitting in the early stages of baseball history. It is even easier to consider modern history to help us understand that nothing has changed in the intervening years in our fascination with long home runs.

The vast popularity of major league baseball's home run hitting contest before the annual All-Star Game is ample evidence that we remain enamored of the players blessed with unique levels of power. Almost predictably, it is not the winners of the formal contest who receive the greatest admiration. Almost every year, it is the man who strikes the ball the farthest during the competition who receives the highest plaudits. Juan Gonzalez and Ken Griffey, Jr. were the most widely discussed participants at Baltimore's 1993 All-Star celebration, though neither player did anything heroic in the game itself. Griffey shared center stage the following year in Pittsburgh with Frank Thomas, as the two men took turns bombarding the upper decks at Three Rivers Stadium. Their displays of pure power were greeted with passionate enthusiasm, though they did not occur in an actual game. Is there a logical explanation for that behavior?

Americans, along with people everywhere, are fascinated with power. It is for that reason that home run hitters have always been and always will be the most popular players. From a functional standpoint, it makes no difference by what margin a ball clears a set home run barrier. Whether it skips across the top of the railing into the first row of bleachers, or completely passes out of the stadium, the batter is award four bases - no more, no less. Why then would anyone care how far they go?

We naturally like to quantify any phenomenon that interest us. What is the highest mountain in the world? How old is the oldest person on the planet? How long will it take the next Olympic champion to run the 100-meter sprint? Who is baseball's mightiest batsman and how far can he hit a baseball? The rules of baseball were made and refined by men; they have limitations. The founding fathers decided to reward a powerfully hit ball by allowing the batter to circle the bases for an automatic run. They did not or could not find a way to further reward the batter who hit a ball significantly farther than the established home run distance. However, fans don't need additional inducements to maintain their fascination with "tape measure" home runs. They have always liked them, and always will.

Along with Roger Connor, the longest hitters in the early days of the major leagues during the 19th century included such men as Harry Stovey, Buck Ewing, Jocko Milligan, and Ed Delahanty. Perhaps the mightiest of all the early sluggers was Big Dan Brouthers, who played for several National League teams before the turn of the century. His longest drive was probably struck on May 4, 1894, at old Union Park in Baltimore. Brouthers rocketed a rising line drive that cleared the fence in distant right-center field, and reportedly rolled another two blocks. The distance traveled through the air has been obscured with the passage of time and herein lies an interesting aspect of this subject. Despite many unsubstantiated claims, none of the early sluggers recorded drives of such length that they could compare with those of the modern era. Years after the fact, Brouthers was credited with a 500-foot home run on the aforementioned date, but it seems highly unlikely that the ball traveled nearly that far. The great Honus Wagner is said to have hit a drive of comparable length at the Polo Grounds, and Sam Crawford was credited with a 473-foot home run in Detroit. These were men of great skill and power, and they unquestionable set the distance standards for their times. A careful analysis indicates, however, that accounts of 450- to 500-foot home runs in those days are almost certainly apocryphal. It was not until Babe Ruth came upon the scene that we can find confirmed accounts of batted balls that can favorably compare with any hit during subsequent generations.

On July 21, 1915, as a rookie with the Boston Red Sox, Ruth struck a prodigious drive that sailed far over the rightfield bleachers at Sportsman's Park in St. Louis. The ball cleared the wide breadth of Grand Boulevard and landed on the sidewalk approximately 470 feet from home plate. That was the start of modern long-distance hitting, and it is a testimony to Ruth's uniqueness that he was able to set objective standards of performance that have never been surpassed.

In order to fully understand and appreciate long-distance hitting, a frame of reference should be established. Any drive over 400 feet is noteworthy. A blow of 450 feet shows exceptional power, as the majority of major league players are unable to hit a ball that far. Anything in the 500-foot range is genuinely historic. For perspective, consider the computerized measuring system implemented by IBM in most major league cities in 1982. By 1995, the sponsorship had changed, but the program had been expanded to include every big league ballpark. During those years, only one drive of 500 feet was confirmed by this system. Cecil Fielder of the Detroit Tigers is credited with powering a ball 502 feet in the air over the left-field bleachers at Milwaukee's County Stadium on September 14, 1991. Such renowned sluggers and extraordinary physical specimens as Jose Canseco and Juan Gonzalez have never come genuinely close to the 500-foot threshold. The best effort on the part of either player was Canseco's famous blast into the fifth level at Toronto's Sky Dome during the 1989 American League playoffs, which was estimated at 484 feet.

It should be noted that those regular references over the years to 500- and 600-foot home runs were born out of scientific ignorance, misinformation, or even deliberate exaggeration. The most common cause for overstatement has been the basic misconception about the flight of a batted ball once it has reached its apex. Seeing great drives land atop distant upper-deck roof, sportswriters observing the occurrence from a press box would resort to their limited skills in mathematics without any regard for the laws of physics. Perhaps the ball had already flown over 400 feet, whereupon it was interrupted in midflight at a height of 70 feet above field level. Awed by such a demonstration of power, the writers would then describe the event for posterity as a 500-and-some-foot home run. With the guidance of our scientific brethren, we know that once a batted ball has reached its highest point and lost most of its velocity, it falls in a rapidly declining trajectory. The aforementioned fictional home run could have been reported at 550 feet in a prominent newspaper, and re-created at that length by historians for years thereafter, when in fact it traveled about 100 feet less. Hyperbole has always been part of the phenomenon of long-distance home runs, and this factor must also be considered.

Not surprisingly, all of the great true distance hitters have also been the source of the greatest exaggerations. Despite his extraordinary accomplishments, Babe Ruth is not immune. His tremendous blow to right-center field in Detroit on June 8, 1926, has often been reported as traveling over 600 feet. Certainly, this drive was propelled somewhere around 500 feet in the air, which makes it legitimately historic, but proof that it traveled 600 feet cannot be found. When Mickey Mantle cleared the left-center-field bleachers at Clark Griffith Stadium in Washington on April 17, 1953, the entire baseball world was lead to believe the ball had traveled 565 feet from home plate to the point where it landed. In truth, that figure derived from the distance from home plate to the place where a neighborhood child retrieved the ball. Since this home run was the only one that ever cleared those bleachers during decades of major league and Negro League competition, it is genuinely deserving of recognition. However, the actual distance in the air was probably about 510 feet. The same process was at work for Mantle on September 10, 1960, in Detroit, where his right-center-field rooftopper was reported to have traveled more than 600 feet. From interviews with the surviving source of the original data, it is readily apparent once again that the all had bounced several times before it reached the estimated distance. Included among the other great exaggerations in the history of tape measure home runs are Dave Nicholson's Comiskey Park rooftopper on May 6, 1964, and Dave Kingman's Wrigley Field blast on April 14, 1976. In the case of Nicholson, who was a powerful man, as was Kingman, the figure of 573 feet was provided by "White Sox mathematicians." These unidentified individuals based their calculations on the assumption that the ball traveled completely over the left-center-field roof. however, subsequent investigation indicated that the ball landed on the back of the roof before bouncing into the night. When Kingman launched his wind-aided blow in Chicago, The New York Times somehow concluded that it had flown 630 feet. It has been confirmed that the ball struck against the third house beyond Waveland Avenue, which is situated about 530 feet from home plate. Yet again, we have an example of a genuinely epic home run that has been grievously overstated.

One other aspect of misrepresentation should be explored. Again, the vast talents of Herculean Mickey Mantle have been comprised by individuals who have unwittingly perpetrated a hoax. Let it be emphasized that the mighty Mick was undoubtedly one of baseball's all time longest hitters. He was an honest, sometimes even self-effacing individual, who was never known to overstate his accomplishments. It is due to his immense popularity and constant involvement in the tape measure process that he is often thrust into the muddle of misrepresentation. By his own account he hit the longest home run of his career on May 22, 1963 at Yankee Stadium. The ball struck the facade on the right-field roof approximately 370 feet from home plate and 115 feet above field level. Almost everyone in attendance believed that the ball was still rising when it was interrupted in midflight by the roof structure. Based upon that belief, this drive has commonly been estimated at about 620 feet if left unimpeded. However, the reality is that the ball was already on its way down, and those reporting the trajectory were victimized by a common optical illusion. It is a scientific fact that if Mantle, or anyone else, had sufficient strength to hit a ball that was still traveling upward when it met the towering facade, he would also have enough strength to clear that same facade by a distance of at least 100 feet. In order for the ball to be rising at roof level, it would have to have been traveling at a lower angle than that which produces maximum distance. If Mantle had provided the same power or velocity, but had launched the ball at a higher and more efficient angle, it would have passed out of Yankee Stadium at a height of over 200 feet! Mantle hit the facade on two or perhaps three occasions, but never cleared it. By his own admission, during his 18-year career at Yankee Stadium, which included thousands of swing variables, he hit several balls to right field in an optimum manner. If he had the power to clear the roof by over 100 feet, he surely would have cleared it marginally on many occasions.

It may be appropriate to cite another example of this same optical illusion. The enigmatic Dick Allen was also one of baseball's greatest long-distance hitters. On July 6, 1974, he powered a torrid drive that crashed against the roof facade in deep left-center field at Tiger Stadium. This memorable blow was knocked down at a linear distance of approximately 415 feet and an altitude of 85 feet. Almost all of the players on the field, and everyone in the home-plate area, including the press box, swore that the ball was still ascending when it hit the roof. And, as was the case with Mantle, Allen was one of the few men in the entire history of the game who possessed legitimate 500-foot-plus power. His 1974 blast certainly traveled over 500 feet, but just as certainly it was not rising when it was forced to as sudden stop. Such a batted ball would require literally superhuman velocity, which would render the batsman capable of authoring 700 foot home runs. Allen may have hit some of his sport's longest home runs, but neither he nor anyone else ever hit a baseball nearly that far.

In returning the discussion to Babe Ruth, it can be said that he defies rational analysis. Not only did he set distance records in every major league ballpark (including National League stadiums where he played only infrequently), he also set similar standards in hundreds of other fields, where he made exhibition and barnstorming appearances. Amazingly, many of those records remain unequaled, which is to say that Ruth is a true athletic anachronism. In virtually every other field of endeavor in which physical performance can be measured, there are no Ruthian equivalents. In 1921 alone, which was Ruth's best tape measure season, he hit at least one 500 foot home run in all eight American League cities. There should be no doubt about the authentication of these conclusions. Despite the scarcity of film on Ruth, we can still make definitive evaluations of the approximate landing points of all of his 714 career home runs.

Ruth played during the height of American's newspaper culture, when approximately 10 New York papers gave first hand accounts of each Yankee game. When you consider that the other baseball towns average about five comparable publications, it is clear that we can draw upon approximately 15 descriptions of most of the hundreds of four-base blows struck during his career. A suitable example can be identified in Ruth's classic Comiskey Park rooftopper on August 16, 1927. Fifteen writers from New York, Chicago, and other places emphatically stated that Ruth's fifth-inning drive cleared the 52-foot-wide grandstand roof by a considerable margin.

Although other sluggers occasionally reached the rooftops during Comiskey's long lifetime, the only other left-handed batter known to have flown the right-field roof was Detroit's Kirk Gibson in 1985. That magnitude of Ruth's accomplishment can be understood with the knowledge that, because home plate had been moved, the distance to the grandstand for Gibson was 341 feet, while for Ruth it was 365 feet. Similarly, Comiskey's left-field roof was also visited by many batted balls, but only one is confirmed to have cleared it on the fly. That homeric deed was performed by the powerful Jimmie Foxx on June 16, 1936. As Ruth's talents waned in the early 1930s, Foxx began his ascendancy. In 1932, the muscular "Double X" almost equaled Ruth's season record of 60 home runs. Many of them even rivaled the Babe's for distance. It was heresy to suggest that Ruth's accomplishments could be surpassed, but for a few seasons it appeared that Foxx might do just that. One of the greatest quirks in baseball history is that Jimmie Foxx, following immediately in the footsteps of Babe Ruth, was to establish the second-greatest distance legacy in the annals of the game. Foxx never quite measured up to Ruth, but it is remarkable that no once since Foxx has measured up to him. The other great distance hitters of that period were Lou Gehrig and Hank Greenberg, but their optimum drives fell about 50 feet short of those struck by Ruth and Foxx.

The next truly great slugger in the chronology of long-distance hitting was Ted Williams, who arrived on the major league scene in 1939. His slender physique belied his subtle strength and natural ability to generate bat speed. On May 4 of that year, Williams cleared the towering right-field grandstand in Detroit and served notice that he was as powerful as he was refined with a bat in his hands. As late as 1960, Teddy Ballgame was still going strong, when he opened the season in Washington with a 475-foot bolt to right-center field. Coincidentally, that was the same ballpark where Mickey Mantle had supplanted Williams as the game's longest hitter seven years earlier.

During Mantle's rookie season in 1951, he had struck several impressive drives, but it was not until he cleared the left-center-field bleachers at Griffith Stadium two years later that he was crowned as the new King of the Tape Measure. The term tape measure is especially relevant in this instance, since it was popularized on this occasion for the first time.

Mantle was a switch-hitter who was equally powerful from both sides of the plate. As a result, he's the only player in history to establish true tape measure standards in all directions. There were no American League stadiums where Mantle played where he did not hit a home run of at least 450 feet to both the left and right sides of the field. After Ruth and Foxx, Mantle ranks as high as or higher than anyone else who ever tried to hit a baseball to faroff places. The decade of the fifties was particularly blessed with the presence of many great sluggers, who should be mentioned in any discussion of long hitters. The list includes Larry Doby, Joe Adcock, Eddie Mathews, Henry Aaron, Willie Mays, and Frank Robinson. Perhaps the longest of those not previously mentioned was Ralph Kiner, who bombarded all the National League left-field distance plateaus of his times.

When gargantuan Frank Howard hit a mighty home run off Robin Roberts in Philadelphia on September 1, 1958, the next great tape measure home run career was initiated. One of the largest men ever to play major league baseball, at six feet seven inches, 275 pounds, Howard was the absolute epitome of size and strength. His trail of National League home runs was already legendary when he moved to the American League in 1965. Before he retired after the 1973 season, he had performed even more extraordinary feats of long-distance hitting in the junior circuit. It took prodigious strength to reach the upper deck at Washington's Robert F. Kennedy Stadium, but "Hondo" did it 24 times, ranging from the left-field foul pole all the way to straightaway center field.

Dick Allen, too, played in both leagues, thereby providing himself the advantage of leaving his signature on more ballparks than those who only played in one league. Allen walloped 18 home runs over the 75-foot-high left-field grandstand at Philadelphia's Connie Mack Stadium, but his opposite-field drives to right and right-center fields may have been even more impressive. Allen could not hit with the same power in those directions as when he pulled the ball, but he seems to have lost less distance than almost anyone else when hitting to the opposite field. Directly behind Allen in the historic ranking of tape measure hitters were contemporaries Willie Stargell and Willie McCovey. Other great distance hitters from the sixties were Harmon Killebrew, Dick Stuart, and Boog Powell.

Entering the 1970s, Reggie Jackson was already established as one of the best ever. His 1971 All-Star blast off the light tower atop the right-center-field roof at Tiger Stadium ranks as one of the 10 longest drives in major league history. Also ranking among the elite during that decade were Greg Luzinski, Dave Kingman, and George Foster.

Moving into the eighties, Mike Schmidt, Jim Rice, and Darryl Strawberry set the pace at a time when modern technology permitted us to better understand the limitations of the flight of a batted ball. The same home runs that had once been described as 500 footers were now being scientifically calculated in the 450-foot range.

As of 1995, the Mantle of baseball's longest hitter can probably best be worn by Cecil Fielder. His regular bombardment of the left-field roof at Tiger Stadium has not been approximated in the 60-year history of that structure. If Bo Jackson had not been forced into early retirement, he might have challenged Fielder for modern supremacy. Others who should be recognized are Jose Canseco, Fred McGriff, Mark McGwire, Ken Griffey, Jr., Frank Thomas, and Andres Galarraga. It is only fair to also mention the great distance sluggers of the old Negro Leagues. That list is topped by the legendary Josh Gibson, and includes George "Mule" Suttles, Norman "Turkey" Stearnes, and John Beckwith. With each passing year, others will join the long list of true tape measure champions. They represent a fraction of those who have applied their ability to the act of hitting a baseball. Fewer than one in a million men are capable of powering a ball 450 feet against major league caliber pitching. It is for that reason that we find their actions so thrilling, and will always want to identify them for special reward and distinction.

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Check the home run lengths of all seventy Mark McGwire blasts and all sixty-six Sammy Sosa's shots in the fabulous feats section.

Did you know that the SABR book (Home Run Encyclopedia) lists details about every Major League home run hit by every player since 1876?

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