The karate snap kick is one of the first moves they teach children, probably because you can't hurt anyone with it. It's a little flip of your knee that drives the ball of your foot straight out to let your enemy know it's safe to rape you. However, Semmy Schilt is 7 feet tall and his limbs act as natural particle accelerators. By the time his lazy jab or kick reaches you, it cracks against you like an elephant gun. And against a normal-sized human, the impact zone of his snap kick is your liver, which is somewhere between your balls and your dong on the list of places you don't want to get kicked.
In the quarter final, Semmy shut down Jerome Le Banner's nervous system with a snap kick to the liver in the first round. It was the kind of kick that makes back alley abortion doctors wince. After that, he faced Remy Bonjasky. Remy knocked him down with a jab in the first few seconds, but all that did was piss Semmy off. He chased Bonjasky into a corner and did the exact same thing back. Bonjasky struggled to his feet and over the next twenty seconds, Semmy beat every inch of him like he was Keith Moon's drum kit. A leg kick finally dropped Bonjasky with 30 seconds left in the round, and when I say "dropped," I mean knocked him screaming, wincing, and flailing into the mat. I think Bonjasky might have been trying to signal offshore Japanese boats to warn them about Semmy Schilt.
In the finals, Semmy faced Badr Hari who had actually knocked Semmy out a few months earlier. They traded gigantic shots for a minute until Semmy threw a jab so filled with hate that protest marches are still held on the remains of Badr Hari's face. Semmy went to the corner and waited for Badr to get up, watching him with the barely contained savagery of a fat person deciding on barbecue sauce. Badr got up, so Semmy kicked him in the head. Badr got up with a flying punch, so Semmy kicked him out of the air. Badr got up again and Semmy said, "fuck this" with a kick to the liver. Badr agreed, and stayed down.
Late in the second, they each got the idea to throw a left hook, and it was the best idea either of them had ever had. Their punches hit at the exact same time and they were both knocked out cold. The timing was so impossible that Michael J. Fox drove out of the impact and asked what year it was.
A minute into this fight, Vernon and Remy each threw a body kick at the same time. Remy got the better of it. His kick slammed Vernon into the mat. The second Vernon got to his feet, Remy jumped across the ring and threw a roundhouse that seemed to hit nothing. Which didn't explain why Vernon was horizontal and twitching. The announcers were confused, the audience was confused and you had to look at the slow motion replay to see what the hell happened. It was like a Bruce Lee urban legend -- the film was too slow to catch it. In one frame you see Remy's foot about to hit Vernon's temple, and in the next, his foot has moved three feet and Vernon's head is a horizontal smear. Remy knocked this man out with a flying Photoshop filter.
Hoost went after Sapp with beautiful leg kicks and combinations and dropped him with surgical body shots. Years from now, when Bob Sapp's organs are being harvested, one of the horse doctors will say to the other, "Whatever this thing used to be, it's paste now." Sapp counter attacked like a frat boy trying to break his bitch ex girlfriend's stereo. It didn't quite work out for him. Hoost spent the entire first round showing the audience the prettiest possible way to execute a yeti.
This continued for 2 minutes and 40 seconds into the second round until Bob Sapp finally cornered Hoost. He held Hoost there with one flipper and threw a temper tantrum against his guard. Sapp punched so much like a hysterical woman that it looked like he was setting up to collapse into Ernesto Hoost's chest and weep. And when the referee jumped in and stopped the fight, that's almost exactly what Sapp did.
Ernesto Hoost was fine. Bob Sapp was the most famous thing in Japan at the time, so when the referee saw a chance to let him win, he took it. With 10 seconds left in the second round, Bob Sapp was being carried by a freight truck to the hospital for a broken hand, and Ernesto Hoost was left in the ring to not fucking believe that shit.
Bob Sapp couldn't continue in the tournament since even yeti hands break when you throw them spastically and metacarpus first, and Ernesto Hoost was given his spot in the semi-finals against Ray Sefo. The fight didn't even make it out of the first round. I tried to make it clear that Ernesto Hoost was a badass, but you still might be shocked that 90 seconds into this fight he blocked an incoming kick and it broke Ray Sefo's leg.
The standard defense for a leg kick is lifting your leg so your enemy's shin hits your shin, not your thigh. As you might imagine, this motherfuck-sucks for the first few thousand times you do it, but eventually your shin builds up calcium deposits and you are a true man. A good leg block doesn't completely negate damage, but when the impact is bone-on-bone, at least the guy kicking you hates it as much as you do. However, if you can turn your knee out and poke it directly into an incoming shin, your opponent will instantly regret at least one decision he's made in his life.
In his first fight of the night, Ernesto let a grizzly bear pound on him until it broke its hand. Then he let Ray Sefo break his leg against him. So I figured in the finals, he would just steal Jerome Le Banner's seat belts and stand in front of his car. He was more proactive with his maiming in this fight, though. He broke Le Banner's arm with a body kick in the third round. Le Banner was in so much pain he forgot which sport he was in and called a time out. The confused ref considered it a knock down and gave Le Banner a standing 8 count. This wasn't quite enough time for his arm bones to mend themselves, so when Hoost kicked it again, Le Banner called another time out. If there's a word for it when someone is kicking you in your broken arm and you keep coming back, I want to know it so I can scream it during sex. Hoost finished the fight with another kick to the broken arm that was arguably more merciful than dickish at this point. Then he pranced into victory dance so magical that it swept through the land and undid all the terrible violence he had committed.
Special Move: Oceanic Heritage! Years ago someone told Polynesian DNA that everyone was surrounded by sea monsters and it believed them. It made humans that were immune to head injuries, fast enough to run on the highway, and big enough to use the carpool lane. Putting two of them in the same ring is like telling your local tectonic plates to fuck themselves.
In the second round, things got mean. Sefo and Hunt started throwing punches like they wanted to feast on the mana of the other's crushed remains. Hunt cracked punches off Sefo's forehead, and Sefo smiled and nodded. Sefo drove punches into Mark Hunt's chin; Mark Hunt screamed in his face! It looked like six bowling balls trying to play rugby. Then... in the middle of all that violence, love.
As Hunt moved forward, arms down, mouth screaming for more punches, Ray "Sugarfoot" Sefo had never been more flooded with love. He dropped his hands as well, leaned in, and kissed Mark Hunt on the cheek. Not in a taunting gay way; this is how two vikings might tell each other that it's time to die when there are too many charging skeletons. Mark Hunt was moved. He answered back with two punches to Sefo's face, but don't be mistaken -- this wasn't retaliation. This gesture was just as affectionate as the kiss and Sefo smiled, a wordless thanks for this generous gift of war. Then the two of them got back to unleashing Hell with their hands. This is the fight Thor closes his eyes and thinks about when a Valkyrie is giving him a blowjob. This fight is what the Alamo uses as its Facebook picture.
Neither man managed to knock the other out, which baffles skull scientists to this day. At the end of the third round, the surviving judges declared Sefo the winner, but probably because Mark Hunt was more generous when it came to dropping his hands and blocking punches with war cries. There are people that search their entire lives for the kind of chemistry that Ray Sefo and Mark Hunt have with each other's fists and skulls. It's beautiful. And Cracked Readers, I ... you've earned this: