Their duel in the late-afternoon sun had all the makings of a holy war.

With the resolve of St. Peter, Sister Teresa Colosio slowly curled her fingers around a green bocce ball, then gently rolled it within inches of the pallino, or smaller target ball, 50 feet away.

"Buono, buono, " said the Italian-born nun, playing to an approving courtside audience at the Villa Scalabrini retirement home in Sun Valley.

Now it was Father August Feccia's turn to roll. Like an avenging angel, the bespectacled priest decided to knock (bocce) the sister's ball out of the way.

"Many times the best offense is a good defense," said Feccia.

In this case, the priest's strategy worked a little too well. His rapid underhand toss was delivered with such force that both bocce balls ricocheted off the sideboards and leaped out of bounds.

"Boccia morta (dead ball)," pronounced Sister Teresa, who is as comfortable in full habit as a layman in a jogging suit.

Her teammate, Sam Costanzo, 85, shouted encouragement. Dominick Tummillo, 81, did the same for his partner, Feccia.

The two holy leaders retrieved their balls and prepared to resume battle, their goal agonizingly simple: to knock their adversary's balls away from the tiny pallino while remaining close to it themselves.

"The game is in our blood, our heritage," said Tummillo, who first played as a boy in Southern Italy.

But the sport of bocce is no longer the exclusive turf of Italians, Catholics and old-timers. It's gone upscale.

At the Market Street Cafe, a trendy Pasadena eatery where wine spritzers and topsiders are the fashion, restaurant-goers play bocce on a single outdoor court next to the bar.

Carrie Russell, a La Canada art consultant, said she stumbled on the game one night after the restaurant's hostess told her there would be a 45-minute wait for a table.

"I didn't want to have another glass of wine, so I was looking for something to do," said Russell, who often coaxes friends into a spirited game or two before dinner.

"I love the game; it's so simple, kinda like pitching pennies or horseshoes," she said.

Sal Casola, the restaurant's owner, said he's never regretted putting a bocce court in the restaurant even though it meant losing a few money-making dining tables.

"I wanted it, and I thought there was a need for it, so I did it," said Casola, who grew up playing the game behind his grandfather's house in New York.