Some say younger Americans—millennials and everyone after them—are stuck in a perpetual childhood. “Kidults,” they’re called. There’s probably some truth to it. And why wouldn’t there be? The world often feels like it’s on fire, housing is out of reach for many people, and plenty of us grew up watching the adults in charge make things worse.

So if you’re going to inherit a mess you didn’t create, you might as well squeeze some joy out of it. That’s why a recent CNN feature about adults obsessively playing Beyblade feels simultaneously spot-on and completely out of touch in that special way legacy media tends to.

The story follows a growing community of adult Beyblade fans across Hong Kong and other parts of Asia, where everything from tattoo parlors to gyms is turning into a makeshift Beyblade arena. Some of the participants have dropped small fortunes building up their collections of spinning Beyblade tops.

The knee-jerk reaction to this kind of story is to call everyone involved a dork and a loser, a stunted manchild or whatever, ignoring the words of the people involved, who, in speaking to CNN, are using a childhood game inspired by an anime as an excuse to meet new people, connect with old friends, and do something in the real world. No one seems especially concerned with how old they’re “supposed” to be.

The Rise of Adult Beyblade Fans Says More About Modern Life Than You Think

A lot of the credit goes to Beyblade itself. I’ve never played it or experienced any part of its sprawling multimedia franchise, but the concept itself is one of the smartest I’ve ever seen. Underneath all that anime-inspired skin is basically a reimagining of one of the most basic toys ever created: the spinning top. American kids in the 1950s were unleashing their tops on one another as other kids gathered round, cheering them on, prepping them all for the cockfighting and UFC matches they would be betting on decades later.

Competitive spinning tops have been around for centuries. All Beyblade did was give them a manga makeover, add some customization elements and tons of collectible parts, and then toss in a TV series that recontextualizes the whole thing, giving it its own bespoke language, characters, and cultural touchstones.

If you’re mad at the “kidults” who play it, you’re mad at the façade, because you can’t possibly be mad at people enjoying an activity that humans have been using to pass the time since ancient Mesopotamia. It’s not a trend that has anything to do with consumerism run amok, being fueled by toxic nostalgia.

Nostalgia plays a part, but it’s really just an excuse to forge community, something the digital world, and people we entrusted with power, have done everything in their power to destroy.