Patrick Ledford doesn’t think about boxing when he’s deciding whether he should buy into a three-month Yankee CD. He doesn’t think about Wall Street when he punches an opponent hollow with a left hook. And he doesn’t think much about either activity when he’s reading Beowulf in bed.

Ledford is chief investment officer of the Reserve, a Manhattan-based investment management fund that handles $60 billion for institutions, banks, brokers, and individual investors. He is also a 49-year-old, 154-pound super welterweight with perhaps more courage than skill. He is chairman of the New York Athletic Club boxing program and has won seven of his eight bouts on a local “white collar” amateur circuit.

Boxing, says Ledford, has a lot in common with asset management. “They’re both very competitive and results-driven,” he offers. “In my business, the market is drawn to the best performers. The same is true of boxing.”

Ledford has a lithe grace, a bashful smile, and a head full of silver hair. An Air Force brat, he grew up on bases in the U.S., Europe, and Japan. “My parents always discouraged my participation in contact sports,” he says. “They didn’t want me to get hurt.” He became a distance runner instead, specializing in 10K races. Before joining the N.Y.A.C. boxing team four years ago, he had never laced up a pair of gloves.

“I was coming off knee surgery, and my orthopedist suggested that I find another way to exercise,” says Ledford, a member of the health club since 1993. “I tried the club’s boxing program for its conditioning routine. I never had any intention of taking the sport to a higher level.”

Many newcomers require up to a year of training before entering the ring to spar, but Ledford was swinging away after only three months. “I kept getting knocked down and beat up,” he recalls. “Other fighters thought it was a little weird that I kept coming back.” Most novices don’t.

Ledford says he stuck with the sweet science partly because he loves the camaraderie. “Believe it or not,” he says, “boxing attracts smart guys.” His sparring partners tend to be bankers, attorneys, and hedge fund managers with ring monikers like Killer, Bulldog, and Hatchetman.

For one match, the long-limbed fund manager went by Spider, but these days he prefers Beowulf. “I consider myself a dragon slayer,” cracks Ledford, who owns two first editions of the epic poem. “As Beowulf, I try to bring a higher level of sophistication to the ring.”

Twice a year, the N.Y.A.C. team faces squads composed of New York City cops and firefighters. The pugs mix it up in bouts of three two-minute rounds. They wear protective headgear and puffy 16-ounce gloves that soften the blows. (Depending on their weight class, pro fighters use either 8- or 10-ouncers.) If trouble arises or a fight looks like a mismatch, the referee steps in as quickly as an S.E.C. regulator.

Ledford normally boxes three times a week. But as each match draws near, he undergoes the most rigorous training regimen north of Parris Island. Every other day, he’ll run three to five miles. Three times a week, he’ll lift weights for an hour, shadowbox for three rounds, hit the mitts for four more, go three rounds on the speed bag, five on the heavy bag, and spar for another five rounds.

So far, his most serious injuries have been a split lip and a bruised rib. “I have to be careful in my fights,” he says. “I can’t go to work with a black eye.” That’s unlikely, considering that in most of his bouts, the 6-foot-2-inch Ledford is often as much as a head taller than his opponents. It’s even more unlikely that he’ll be decked by a wild uppercut. His tactics—fighting out of a defensive shell, gloves held high—are only slightly less conservative than his approach to investing. “I don’t take risks with my health or my boxing style,” he says. “I won’t go toe-to-toe with anyone.”

Ledford’s sole loss came two years ago, at the hands of Ernie Morales, an N.Y.P.D. lieutenant known as the Spanish Fly. “I had the flu, but that’s no excuse,” says Ledford, who was so weary in round one that he took a standing eight-count. “You should never enter the ring unless you’re 110 percent.”

A rematch is set for October. Beowulf swears it will be his swan song. “My wife is going to pull the plug,” he says. “I keep telling her that boxing is cheap, and that she’s lucky I don’t play golf. Now that sport can get expensive!”