London's Stressed-Out Bankers Trade Punches

LONDON, July 29, 2008— -- Stuart Tancred, a JP Morgan banker, trains at the Real Fight Club every day, in the heart of London's financial district, known as the City.

In a city which depends on the financial industry, times get tougher when the markets are down.

When most of his buddies go for a beer after work to relax, Tancred punches sand bags.

"I work in the city," Tancred told ABC News, "sometimes it could be stressful. If you have had a bad day, obviously it's great to come down here and work out, hit the bags, release some of that stress."

White-collar boxing started in Wall Street. It crossed the Atlantic seven years ago and has enjoyed growing success since then.

Today, the Real Fight Club claims over five hundred members.

"Most of our members are local businessmen," trainer Nick Stafford-Dietsch told ABC News. "They are white-collar people who work in banking, traders, lawyers, people who work in PR. They are professional people who are bored of just working out in a normal health club."

"I have always found normal gyms a bit boring," said Tancred. "This is different, this is a challenge."

Tancred joined the club a year ago, but he has yet to convince people at work that boxing is the right sport for a respectable banker.

"They think it's a bit strange," said Tancred, who acknowledged that eyebrows were raised when he came to work with a black eye.

Asked whether traders made good boxers, Stafford-Dietsch seemed amused. "They can. They can also make terrible boxers, but we have some very skillful people."

Tancred, 37, is no Rocky Balboa, but he was pumped for the club's annual show, where he was up against Scott Francombe, the "Smasher," a man Tancred has been unable to beat.

The fight happened at the legendary boxing venue York Hall, in London's rough East End.

The place has been hosting shows since 1929, and was saved from closure after widespread protests from locals.

That night, the atmosphere was electric at York Hall.

Herds of City boys, wearing their usual uniform of suit and white shirt, flocked to the bar to glug down one or two pints before the bell rang.