The distance from Recife in the east to the Peruvian border in the west is greater than from Dublin to Moscow; the landmass is bigger than the 48 contiguous United States of America; the people say they live in a continent rather than a country. It is an understandable claim - Brazil dwarfs you with its elusive vastness.
Size matters to Brazilians, and in terms of their football it is just as well the scale is so enormous, for it probably needs a continent to accommodate the ego of Edmundo Alves de Souza Neto - Edmundo - the man nicknamed The Animal due to his fondness for other species and his frequently unrefined behaviour, the Vasco da Gama player Manchester United will have to watch most closely this evening.
As self-importance goes, Edmundo's is as large as the Sugar Loaf and, as he showed against South Melbourne on Thursday night, he is back, if not in the mountain's shadow, then strutting nearby. Rio de Janeiro is his home town. That could explain a lot.
His return is recent and, as always with Edmundo, soaked in controversy. Edmundo's volatility makes David Beckham look like Ole Gunnar Solskjaer. His cockiness makes Naseem Hamed seem shy.
Like so many South American footballers, Edmundo was lured to Italy and Fiorentina last season. He arrived in Serie A with confident predictions of proving himself to be the best player in the world. Paired with the great Argentinian striker Gabriel Batistuta, this was to be the partnership to end partnerships. Goals were to flow.
But goals did not flow and, occasionally (too occasionally, some might say), it was Edmundo who flew. Then again, this was a character who had written into his Fiorentina contract that he could return mid-season to Rio for the carnival. And he did.
So it was not hugely startling that after an unimpressive 10 months in Italy - though not in terms of publicity - Edmundo left for Rio again, this time permanently.
At 28, and bearing in mind he has a prison sentence hanging over him, it is most unlikely Europe will see Edmundo again. Maybe it's just not big enough anyway.
To get an idea of his colossal megalomania it is worth hearing his own explanation for the leaving of Italy.
"I must be the star," he protests. It is a regular Edmundo opening gambit. "At Fiorentina, Batistuta and Rui Costa were the stars. I cannot be outside the limelight. For me to flourish I need love and I need the power to make decisions.
"If I had worn the number 10 shirt instead of Rui Costa, if I had taken the penalties and the free-kicks like I did in Brazil, it would have been different. Here I always decided where and how I would play. I decided if and when I got substituted. But in Italy it was different, players have to do what the manager tells them to do."
He's some pup. "I am realistic about my talents," he continued, with a questionable amount of realism. "I am probably the greatest player in the world. On their day, perhaps Ronaldo, Del Piero or a few others may be equal to me."
Had Edmundo won hatfuls rather than handfuls of Brazil caps, illuminated World Cups, South American cups and then entranced Europe, it might be slightly easier to take his skyscraper boasting, although it is little wonder that he sometimes loses the plot when he is indulged by those who employ him.
At Vasco this has seen the chairman, Eurico Miranda, say: "Edmundo is better than Maradona, better than Ronaldo, better than anything you have ever seen in Europe. At the very best only Pele or Zico might have been on a par with him. But I do say only might have been."
Quite staggering, even from a colourful chairman prepared to excuse Edmundo's latest return from injury with alcoholic poisoning. It was not the player's first entanglement with the demon drink. In October he caused a national sensation when at his son's birthday - Edmundo junior, naturally - the father hired a circus and made the animals wear the jerseys of Vasco's great rivals Flamengo.
But in 1995, an altogether more serious incident, which may have involved drink, ended with three people dead. When two cars met head-on in Rio, Edmundo was the driver of one of them. He escaped with cuts and bruises, but two of his passengers and the driver of the other car died. Edmundo was charged with manslaughter, but it took over four years for Brazil's justice system to find him guilty. When they did, Edmundo was sentenced to 4 1/2 years in "semi-open" prison. This means spending the nights in jail.
When the verdict came in Edmundo vanished and, like O J Simpson, was a man on the run. After two days Edmundo turned himself in, but he spent only one - televised - evening in prison. His lawyers have appealed, and another verdict awaits later this year. His wealth and fame mean it is unlikely he will go down, but the threat is there.
The Animal's rights could yet be curtailed, but while free he is undoubtedly enjoying himself. Given the adoration he received in the Maracana on Thursday night, it would be difficult not to. When Edmundo scored the whole stadium rose to acclaim him with the chant: "Edmundo, aaaahhh." Magnificently simple, simply magnificent.
He was booked for the extravagance and length of his celebrations but was oblivious to the referee. A couple of minutes later he signalled to the sidelines that he wanted to come off. So he did. To the further delight of the crowd he shook hands with Romario. They have not spoken for months until this week. Both think the other has a big ego.
At the mouth of the Amazon the distance between shores is greater than from London to Paris. Only a country the size of Brazil could cope with both Edmundo and Romario.
