Image credit:
(Photo by Aaron M. Sprecher/Getty Images)

It was an off day in early April, the kind that offers temporary respite from competition but little in the way of quiet. Music pulsed through the stadium’s empty grandstands as players cycled through batting practice, their swings echoing into the steel and silence.

A veteran Power 4 head coach stood just beyond the plate, casually observant—until his most imposing hitter stepped into the cage.

Then he stopped watching and started studying.

Of the first four swings, three balls cleared the fence with ease, each screaming into the empty outfield at distances the coach later estimated between 415 and 430 feet. Remarkably, he noted, they weren’t even all squared up.

“He mis-hit two of them,” the coach said, exhaling a low, incredulous laugh. “The ball just took off, man. I swear if he was swinging wood, those balls wouldn’t have gotten halfway to the track.”

It was a moment without consequence on the scoreboard, but not without weight. To the anonymous coach, it crystallized a broader, more unsettling reality—one he’d been feeling more than articulating.

“We’re playing a different game now,” he said. “And I don’t know if we’re equipped for it.”

The data supports his concern.

Between 2022 and 2025, average exit velocities at the Division I level climbed from 82.5 mph to 86.1 mph. The escalation at the top end is even more dramatic. The average 90th percentile exit velocity—a benchmark for a hitter’s peak batted-ball output—has surged from 96.5 mph to just under 102 mph. It’s the first time in history that college baseball’s 90th percentile average cracked triple digits.

YearAverage Exit VelocityAverage 90th Percentile EV202282.5 mph96.5 mph202384.1 mph99.9 mph202485.0 mph99.2 mph202586.1 mph101.6 mph

The raw force being generated at the plate isn’t just impressive—it’s unprecedented. And in the eyes of coaches and administrators, it’s inching toward dangerous.

“I’m afraid it’s going to take someone getting really hurt for a change to actually happen,” a high-ranking Power 4 official told Baseball America. “There are so many roadblocks to making changes that could curb this. People will need their hands forced.”

That concern sharpens when you compare college data to the major league game.

At the midpoint of the 2025 MLB season, 180 players with at least 100 balls in play posted 90th percentile exit velocities of 105 mph or higher. In college baseball this season, that number was 444.

Likewise, only 36 current big leaguers have recorded a single batted ball at 115 mph or above—a rarefied group that includes outliers like Oneil Cruz and Vladimir Guerrero Jr., both of whom have topped 120. In college, nearly 200 players cleared that same 115 mph threshold in 2025 alone. In other words: What’s rare at the highest level of the sport is increasingly routine in the amateur ranks.

But unlike the majors, where defenders are outfitted with years of reps, elite field surfaces and granular defensive positioning data, college baseball is rarely afforded such insulation. The result is a risk profile that’s not only higher, but less predictable.

“It’s not just that the ball is coming off the bat harder,” one administrator said. “It’s that it’s coming off the bat harder in environments that aren’t built to handle it.”

That infrastructural gap is significant. Major league teams train on pristine infields with meticulous maintenance and true hops. They position defenders down to the inch using batted-ball heatmaps and spray charts, even in an environment when the overshift is no longer allowed. 

In college, field conditions vary wildly from game to game, and defensive alignment is less precise. That reality was a factor when the NCAA opted against banning shifts. Sources indicated that forcing infielders into traditional alignments was seen as too risky given current batted-ball speeds.

Meanwhile, offense has exploded.

In 2025, 235 Division I programs averaged at least 6.0 runs per game. Just four years earlier, that figure was 129. The reasons aren’t complicated. Hitters are physically stronger, mechanically refined and armed with more information than ever. Tools like bat sensors, high-speed cameras and machine-learning swing models are now staples of elite college programs. And the output is unmistakable.

The problem, many say, is that the rest of the game hasn’t evolved at the same rate.

“You used to have to absolutely crush a ball to get it out,” one longtime coach said. “Now it feels like average contact can leave the park. And when that same ball comes back through the infield at 110, there’s real danger in that.”

Few within the sport dispute that something needs to give. The question is what. 

Some administrators point to equipment reform as the most sensible starting point. One emerging idea is the introduction of composite bats made from reinforced carbon fiber, which could be engineered to minimize the trampoline effect that amplifies exit velocity. But those bats would almost certainly come at a premium, and for most programs—especially outside the Power 4—the cost would be prohibitive.

Wood bats, widely considered the most elegant fix, were quickly dismissed by multiple officials as impractical.

“It’s just not viable,” one said. “The breakage rate alone would crush most equipment budgets.”

That leaves the baseball itself. Deadening the ball—modifying its internal composition to reduce how lively it is off the bat—has been used in professional leagues to subtly curb home run rates. Several college officials and most coaches who spoke with BA believe a similar solution could work at the amateur level. 

However, administrators fear that change comes with the risk of overcorrection. College baseball has never been more popular, and many within the sport worry that dulling offense too much could alienate a large portion of a growing fanbase.

“You don’t want to kill the product,” one official said. “Fans love the offense. If you deaden the ball too much, you might lose people.”

And so, the dilemma persists. Players continue to get stronger. Technology continues to improve. Exit velocities continue to rise. And a sport rooted in tradition is forced to reckon with a modern acceleration that’s outpacing its own guardrails.

“We’re going to have to do something,” the Power 4 official said. “We just can’t keep pretending like this is normal.”

For now, though, pretending—or perhaps hoping—remains the operating posture.