A northeasterly breeze blows across the football field at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater. To me the wind provides some glorious relief: It's the middle of the day in the middle of July, and a heat wave has just descended on the region. But to Harrison Butker, who is standing with me at the 40-yard line, facing north, it's a tactical advantage. "Bit of a tailwind," he says, eyeing the goal posts as he bends to tee up a football.

Not that he needs it. Butker backs away, takes two steps to his left, pauses, and dashes toward the ball, his right foot making contact with a thwock that sings throughout the stadium. The kick drifts right, tails left, then soars high between the uprights. It's a 50-yard field goal, but it looks to me like it could have been good from more than 60.

Butker is the starting placekicker for the Kansas City Chiefs. He's met me here at a kicking camp in Whitewater to demonstrate his skills, which are considerable. One of the most powerful and consistent kickers in the NFL, Butker has made more than 95 percent of the extra points he's attempted in the course of his career and 90 percent of his field goals, including several from 50 yards or more.

He's made even more impressive field goals in practice. Dressed in full pads and facing down a defensive line, he's sent footballs flying through the uprights from 67 yards away. That's a good bit farther than the NFL's current in-game record of 64 yards, which Matt Prater, then of the Denver Broncos, set in 2013 at the city's Mile High Stadium.

That's the interesting thing about the field goal: While the in-game record has barely budged in half a century (before Prater, it belonged to New Orleans Saints placekicker Tom Dempsey, who made a game-winning, 63-yard field goal against the Detroit Lions all the way back in 1970), kickers are capable of much greater distances. "In practice, if there's wind going and a broken-in ball, you can see guys going back to 80, maybe even farther than that," Butker says. Which is why players, coaches, and sports scientists all agree that it's only a matter of time until someone breaks the record.

The question is: By how much?

Probably by quite a lot. "I would not be surprised if at some point in my day I saw somebody kick an upper 80s, maybe even 90-yard field goal," says Chase Pfeifer. A biomechanist and biomedical engineer, Pfeifer was a placekicker as an undergraduate at Florida State University. He went on to perform 3D analyses of elite placekickers, including where and how fast their foot makes contact with the ball, and the flight dynamics of their kicks—originally for his PhD dissertation, and later for fun and profit.

He also built a field-goal-kicking robot named Herbie Junior, after the mascot of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Pfeifer's alma mater. At first, the kicking leg on Herbie Junior was a counter-weighted pendulum powered by a custom gear chain, a lawnmower engine, and an industrial shock absorber. Pfeifer later replaced the lawnmower engine with a winch, to give him more control. "Humans are unpredictable and inconsistent," Pfeifer adds. "But a mechanical robot kicks the same way every time."

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By cross-referencing his player data with his robot data, Pfeifer was able to study how things like foot speed, foot placement, and coordination affect the quality of a given kick. According to Pfeifer's observations, when an elite placekicker’s foot makes contact with the ball, it’s usually traveling between 42 and 49 miles per hour (that's between 19 and 22 meters per second), and can deliver more than 3,000 newtons of force to the ball. To achieve maximum distance, a kicker needs to launch the ball at 43 degrees. And to do that, their foot needs to make contact a quarter of the way up the football, which, on a standard NFL ball, is about 2.5 inches off the ground.