“Bishop to d3. . . . Black bishop takes White knight . . . Ooh . . .” The commentator draws in his breath: “Black’s probably going to regret that move.”

Black probably does for, moments later, White’s fist swings into his nose, covering Black in blood. Black, keen to avenge both knight and nose, starts pummelling White about the ears. A klaxon blares. The crowd roars: “Do it for the bishop!”

Chess matches are not usually so lively. Or bloody. Yet this was the scene on Saturday at the Boston Dome, in Tufnell Park, northwest London, where players contested the first European heavyweight championship final for chessboxing, said to be the world’s fastest-growing, hybrid sport.

In the black corner was Andy “The Rock” Costello, an English former cage fighter. Against him in the white corner was Gianluca “Il Dottore” Sirci, an Italian of ork-like size. The pundits predicted a close match.

Chessboxing was created in 2003 as performance art by the Dutch artist Iepe Rubingh, who was in the audience to see the English apotheosis of his sport. “I got the idea from a Serbian comic,” he told The Times. “It looked great. I wanted to see if it would work.” The first match (in a church) attracted an audience of 800.

Rounds of chess alternate with rounds of boxing. Both are played in the ring, in full boxing gear (though for the chess the gloves and gumshield are removed). The winner is the first man either to knock out or to checkmate his opponent.

In the ring, the bell sounds. The boxing is over: back to the board. “The Rock” is sweating, the muscles of his glistening back as chiselled as any chess piece. One referee sponges him down. Another plugs cotton wool into his ears: the players wear earplugs and headphones during the chess rounds to aid concentration.

The Rock is suffering. “White bishop takes f6, check.” Andy clenches his fists in concentration, the veins on his arms as thick as Bobby Fischer’s fingers. Il Dottore’s pawn advances. H4, h5, h6. “Il Dottore is going to annihilate him,” says the commentator. Then, suddenly: “White pawn to h8. Checkmate!” Black king has fallen. The Rock’s defence has crumbled. Il Dottore stands, victorious. The theme to Rocky blares out. Lithe ladies storm the ring, eager to touch their heroes.

One suspects this never happened to Gary Kasparov.