It's the middle of summer, normally a time when things slow down. Not in the world of sports. There is plenty of stuff going on that is stupid or ridiculous or threatening or disgusting.

Let's start with the most disgusting -- Michael Vick.

Many years ago, after more cocktails than I should have had, I went to a cockfight and a dogfight in the Philippines. The cockfight was plenty bad. The dogfight, and I wasn't even a dog lover at the time, was the most repulsive thing I could ever imagine seeing.

It was hard to tell who was more frenzied, the two fighting dogs or the crowd gathered around, clutching dollar bills and shouting at the top of their voices. I know it's not politically correct to say so, but I noticed at the dogfight that I was the only white person in the room. The others were Filipinos or African-Americans.

Now, we find out that one of the most exciting football players in the league is part of a dog-fighting ring. Read that indictment and see if your stomach doesn't turn over when you read about how they got rid of the dogs that didn't perform as well as they should have.

The NFL is treading around the issue of Vick, not wanting to rush to judgment before the court proceedings are over. And I guess that if the league took strong action, Vick could get a court somewhere to reinstate him. But so what. I think they should ban Vick right now for the rest of his life.

Now, let's talk about the threatening -- Tim Donaghy, the NBA referee who has apparently got a bad, bad gambling habit.

When David Stern met the media this week, you would have thought he was talking about the death of his parents, wife, children and all his children's teachers. Talk about morbid.

Everyone is going around saying that this incident spells doom for the NBA. That is hogwash. This is a league that deals, on a daily basis it seems, with athletes who fight, carry and use weapons, use drugs, glorify selfishness and refuse to be patriotic and stand for the National Anthem.

Rather than something way, way out there, this gambling ref seems to fit right into the pattern of life in the NBA. Far from sounding the alarm of doom for the league, this might get them to do something about their problems.

Every year, you can hear more and more television sets turning somewhere else when the NBA is on. Unless you are one of the league-sanctioned superstars, there's not much chance anyone will ever know your name.

My hope is that Stern brings in some fresh blood, some fresh perspectives and some fresh ideas to get the NBA back to where a sport as glorious as this one belongs.

Now for the ridiculous and the stupid - David Beckham, his wife, and the people who think Major League Soccer will be a hit in Milwaukee.

This has become an annual rant with me, but it seems to be taking on more urgency now that Becks and Posh have hit our shores. I may never have seen such an orchestrated, phony, highly choreographed landing since Paris Hilton got out of jail.

She is obnoxiously self-centered. She doesn't smile. Her boobs are fake. She can't sing or dance. She practices her pout in front of a mirror. Let's see, anything else?

He is just about over-the-hill and is injury prone. He seems more interested in being a celebrity than in being a soccer player.

The two of them are so far out in front of their promises that they couldn't deliver if she climbed into bed with everyone I know and he scored goals quicker than Lindsay Lohan checks in and out of rehab.

People are saying that this will vitalize soccer in this country and the sport will take off.

If I had a dollar for every time someone has said to me over the last 30 years that "Soccer is about to take off because of globalization and all the kids who play the game" I would not be writing this column for money.

Watch my lips: Soccer is a nice niche sport. That's all. And that's all it's ever going to be in this country.

Finally, a note of sadness. It's not sports, but I want to say it anyhow.

I was greatly saddened to read about the death of my friend, Dennis Getto, the restaurant critic for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

We were colleagues and when he was named the restaurant critic in 1982, he took me along as one of his diners for one of the earliest reviews he wrote. It may even have been his very first review, because I know he and I talked about the wisdom of using his guests' opinions in the reviews.

I think we went to Sally's Steakhouse in the Knickerbocker Hotel. I remember him barely talking during the meal, just writing notes and being real nervous. I asked him what was wrong and he said nothing, and that was the problem. "How can I be a critic for food as good as this?" he said.

He shouldn't have worried. We will all miss him.