Vitali Klitschko quick to see off Odlanier Solis in first-round farce

Kevin Mitchell in Cologne

Vitali Klitschko watches challenger Odlanier Solis from Cuba going down during the first round of the WBC heavyweight title bout. Photograph: Martin Meissner/AP

Odlanier Solis – the last fighter to beat David Haye as an amateur – calls himself La Sombra, the shadow. On Saturday night in Cologne, the Cuban slid meekly into the night, booed for a one-round capitulation against Vitali Klitschko that cemented for ever his nom de guerre. Boxing is full of twists and turns – but few so farcical as the pirouette the Cuban effected to bring his challenge for Klitschko's WBC heavyweight title to a surreal finish in the first round in the Lanxess Arena. Solis's shadow boxing convinced few but the gullible – he claimed later to have shipped a shot to the temple and, in falling, twisted his knee – and he should remember for a long time the cat-calls that greeted his surrender. At least Klitschko, who struggles with injuries, is in one piece and still available for Haye, should the Londoner get him in the ring after his upcoming fight with his brother, Wladimir. As the elder Klitschko moved on his prey with a raking, crooked left, his timing still to hit a rhythm, his suspect legs and undoubted patience not even tested, a couple of grazing blows ruffled the Cuban's curly locks, one possibly with a sliver of force, and Solis went south without further encouragement. Seated near the ropes, he looked disoriented and grimaced like a pantomime villain, but otherwise expressed no obvious regret as he shook his head in sync with the hands of the referee, who waved the performance over at three minutes into the fight. Klitschko, clearly incensed, leaned over the referee to remonstrate with his reluctant dancing partner, whose subsequent departure from the ring, after a brief rest on his stool, did not give the appearance he was in serious pain. The crowd of 19,000 reserved what enthusiasm they had for a smattering of applause for Klitschko, whom they have taken to their hearts since he and his brother arrived here from Ukraine to establish their respective reigns as heavyweight champions. The win, Vitali's 42nd in 44 outings, arrives a few months before his 40th birthday. It was the oddest of them all, and probably one of the last. His body is giving up on him almost as fast as Solis's spirit did last night. The champion emerged like some invention of a Gothic video game, in black robe with gold braid, through a mocked-up giant door, backlit in purple, and striding to battle with all the imposing stiffness of a cartoon Gorgon. Solis affected nonchalance. But not for long. That Klitschko jab landed early, the precursor of the right that always follows. But neither was needed. Haye's trainer, Adam Booth, here for talks with Vitali's brother, Waldimir, said beforehand that the Cuban was "the most naturally gifted heavyweight out there – besides David". He might well be. We shall probably never know. Solis and Klitschko clearly are beasts from different parts of the forest. Klitschko, although half a foot taller and nearly 10 years older than the challenger, weighed in less than three pounds heavier than him, testimony to his discipline and Solis's lack of it – although he whipped himself into decent shape for this fight to get down to 246.9, the lightest of his career. It was Solis's 10th and possibly last contest in Germany. He was nearly a stone lighter than his last outing in December, when he laboured to beat the 40-year-old Ray Austin on disqualification in the 10th round of a quite farcical eliminator for this title shot. The 30-year-old Cuban has lunched on some poor fare since his professional debut in Hamburg in 2007, a year after he defected. Six fights ago, in October, 2008, he was fed Chauncy Welliver, a 27-year-old native American Indian, heritage he left at the door when he described himself as "The Fat Dorky White Guy". Paunchy Chauncy lasted nine of the 12 rounds, yet, astoundingly, was the reserve candidate for Wladimir Klitschko when the WBO and IBF champion was negotiating with Dereck Chisora – and Solis was being nudged up the ratings. If further evidence is needed of the parlous state of heavyweight boxing, I can't help you. It is nights such as this that do not just give the business a bad name but make dedicated fans wonder why they bother.