Montage 4: Gimmie the Ball Lyrics – Chorus Line, A

Song Overview

This track is the kinetic, stop-start climax of the long “Montage” sequence from the original cast album of A Chorus Line - the part where teenage chaos hardens into early adult bravado. On record it appears as “Montage, Part 3: Gimme the Ball,” sung by company members who volley memories about sex, school, sports, status, and fear. It is less a single than a cross-fade of confessions set to a driving groove, but the cut stands on its own thanks to its comic bite, rhythmic insistence, and the snap of Marvin Hamlisch’s writing.

Review and Highlights

Quick summary

1. Part of the larger “Montage” sequence from A Chorus Line - this is the sports-stoked, brag-and-panic sprint often led by Richie, with Greg chiming in.
2. On the 1975 Original Broadway Cast album it appears as “Montage, Part 3: Gimme the Ball,” a high-tempo patter scene with ensemble interjections.
3. The number sketches late-teen bravado while undercutting it with doubt - a pivot point before the show’s more reflective mid-album songs.
4. Subsequent cast recordings (notably the 2006 revival) preserve its structure; the 1985 film swaps it out for the new song “Surprise, Surprise.”
5. Stylistically it fuses Broadway patter, pep-band riffing, and big-band hits, with tight rhythm section figures pushing the pace.

Creation History

Like the rest of A Chorus Line, the “Montage” grew from workshop transcripts of dancers recounting their puberty years - chopped and re-stitched by director-choreographer Michael Bennett into a fluid stage sequence where talk, song, and movement share the same oxygen. Composer Marvin Hamlisch and lyricist Edward Kleban wrote music and text to fit that documentary shape, letting musical cells trigger between bursts of dialogue. The original cast album - produced in 1975 by Columbia’s legendary Goddard Lieberson - captured that design: short sections sequenced as tracks, with “Gimme the Ball” arriving like the hook-heavy exclamation point. The studio band plays with a pit-orchestra snap, and the cast’s comic timing lets the punch lines land without breaking the beat. According to the Masterworks Broadway notes on Lieberson’s career, this was the last Broadway cast album he oversaw - a capstone from the producer who set the gold standard for documenting musicals on record.

Musically, “Gimme the Ball” rides a brisk backbeat and call-and-response shouts. Harmonically it stays bright and brassy, favoring primary-color chords that suit the locker-room chant quality of the hook. The percussion and brass punch accents like cutaway edits. You can hear why revivals keep the shape intact - this is the one “Montage” slice that explodes outward and invites the whole company to cheer, jeer, and testify.

Key takeaways

1. Function - comic release valve after confession-heavy vignettes, before the score pivots to deeper vulnerability.
2. Voice - largely Richie’s story engine, with Greg’s self-revelations threading through; chorus interjections act like bleacher chatter.
3. Form - patter plus chant, jump-cut structure, groove-forward arranging that mimics a halftime show more than a torch song.
4. Feel - loud, confident, breathless - then suddenly scared, the exact adolescent whiplash the show chronicles.

Song Meaning and Annotations

Plot

We’re still in the marathon audition. The dancers, prompted to recall adolescence, spill memories that ping between locker rooms, classrooms, and the backseat of a car. The “Gimme the Ball” section snaps into Richie’s voice - a kid who was in everything at school, yelling for the ball, everywhere at once. His resume bulges with yearbook photos and he even lands a scholarship. But then the brakes squeal: he imagines life as a kindergarten teacher and hears the inner voice ask, “What are you gonna be when you get shoved outta here?” The chorus echoes his name like a taunt - “Shit, Richie” - an onomatopoeic stutter that turns swagger into nerves. Around him, classmates fire off their own one-liners: braces gone, pimples gone, childhood gone. The comic fragments add up to a collective rite-of-passage: goodbye to 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 - hello to a future that no one feels ready for.

Song Meaning

At heart, this is about the bargain of confidence. Richie’s chant - “Gimme the ball!” - sells the myth of control: if I get the ball, I can run the play. But the song flips the myth. Getting older is not a sport you can win; the whistle blows and you’re “shoved outta here” into an adult world with no scholarship. The music mirrors that bait-and-switch. It starts like a pep rally and ends like a panic attack, as if the band kept playing while the floor opened up. The ensemble’s interjections function like the unseen crowd that teenagers imagine is always watching - gassing you up, then laughing when you stumble.

Annotations

“To be hard is to have an erection.”

Greg’s deadpan detail turns hormonal embarrassment into vaudeville timing. It’s not a dictionary note so much as a cue for how blunt the show is willing to be. The frankness is part of the concept - adolescence without euphemism.

“Since this story is set in the early 70s there are a few mildly homophobic messages throughout the album such as this one.”

That context matters. The album preserves the era’s language and attitudes, including a moment where Greg recognizes he is gay and panics about what that might mean for his life. The show’s broader arc treats those revelations matter-of-factly, a notable shift on Broadway at the time.

“A diaphragm is both a thin sheet of muscle between the thorax and the abdomen, as well as a method of birth control.”

That double meaning becomes a comic misunderstanding in one character’s line - textbook vocabulary colliding with real-world sex education, which is a recurring joke engine in the “Montage.”

“Padiddle is a car spotting game where whoever spots a car with a burnt out light gets a kiss or punch.”

Insert teenage Americana here: highway rituals, dumb rules, and how games mask flirtation. The word is a time capsule, and it keeps the montage tethered to lived detail.

“Lockjaw of the legs isn’t a real condition...”

Another uneasy laugh. Mark’s choice of phrase shows the gap between adolescent slang and adult nuance. The number loves that gap - the messy language is part of the anthropology.

“Rudolf Nureyev was a Soviet born ballet dancer.”

The Nureyev name-check flashes a mirror of aspirational cool - a dancer icon sliding into teenage mouth-off culture: Steve McQueen out, Nureyev in. The line places Broadway’s chorus-kids in a pop-culture current as wide as sports and cinema.

Deep-dive: style, structure, and subtext

Genre fusion and rhythm

The engine is Broadway patter over a pep-band-adjacent groove. Snare and brass hits act like drumline cadences; the bass walks with a light funk bounce. Hamlisch trims the harmony to the essentials so the comedy can breathe. That minimalism is key - you hear text first, while the rhythm section keeps the kinetic floor under everyone’s feet.

Emotional arc

It starts with chest-thumping confidence, then flashes of vanity and shame, then sudden fear. The chorus’s shouted “Shit, Richie” is the hinge - funny, a little cruel, and sympathetic all at once. By the button, the company has shouted “Goodbye” to every age between 12 and 17; it lands like a countdown to a launch they’re not sure they asked for.

Cultural touchpoints

Padiddle, diaphragms in health class, Nureyev’s star power, prom anxiety - the text sprays details that anchor the montage in American teen life of the late 60s-early 70s. The specificity saves the number from becoming a generic “growing up” tune. If you’ve ever clutched books to hide an erection, or pretended you knew more about contraception than you did, the show has your number. As stated by Talkin’ Broadway’s long view on the piece, this whole “Hello Twelve...” arc melds song, dance, and single-line quips into one breath - the musical equivalent of flipping channels during puberty.

Key Facts

• Artist: Original Broadway Cast of A Chorus Line
• Featured: Company voices led on record by Ronald Dennis and Michel Stuart
• Composer: Marvin Hamlisch
• Producer: Goddard Lieberson
• Release Date: October 1975
• Genre: Show tune, Broadway patter
• Instruments: Pit-style orchestra with rhythm section, brass, reeds; conducted in the Broadway production by Donald Pippin
• Label: Columbia Masterworks
• Mood: Brash, breathless, nervy
• Length: 4:08 (OBCR track “Montage, Part 3: Gimme the Ball”)
• Track #: 7 on the original Broadway cast LP sequence of the “Montage” block
• Language: English (subsequent licensed productions recorded in Spanish and other languages)
• Album: A Chorus Line - Original Broadway Cast
• Music style: Patter-song with chant and ensemble riffs
• Poetic meter: Mixed - rapid patter alternating with chant-like stress patterns

Canonical Entities & Relations

People

• Marvin Hamlisch - composed the score.
• Edward Kleban - wrote the lyrics.
• Michael Bennett - conceived, directed, and choreographed the stage production that shaped the “Montage.”
• Goddard Lieberson - produced the original cast album.
• Donald Pippin - musical director and conductor on Broadway; heard on album credits.
• Ronald Dennis - original cast member associated with Richie’s featured vocals on record.
• Michel Stuart - original cast singer featured in the track’s credits.

Organizations

• Columbia Masterworks - label for the original cast album.
• New York Shakespeare Festival / The Public Theater - producers of the original stage production prior to the Broadway transfer.
• Masterworks Broadway - imprint that has reissued anniversary editions and revival recordings.
• Concord Theatricals - current licensing home for the musical.

Works

• A Chorus Line - the stage musical.
• A Chorus Line - Original Broadway Cast Recording.
• A Chorus Line (2006 Revival Cast Recording) - contains a newly recorded “Gimme the Ball.”
• A Chorus Line (1985 film) - replaces this number with the new song “Surprise, Surprise.”

Venues/Locations

• Columbia 30th Street Studio - New York recording site for many Columbia cast albums.
• Shubert Theatre - Broadway home of the original production.

Questions and Answers

Is “Gimme the Ball” a standalone song or a slice of a longer scene?

It is a slice - one quadrant of the multi-part “Montage.” On the original album it appears as its own track, but on stage it’s woven into a 12-plus-minute sequence about adolescence.

Who carries the vocal spotlight?

Richie powers the chant and confessional; Greg’s beats thread in too. On the 1975 album, the featured voices include Ronald Dennis and Michel Stuart.

Why the sports chant?

Because swagger is a mask. The locker-room cadence makes confidence sound easy until the lyric pulls the rug - adulthood arrives and there is no coach to draw up the next play.

How does the band shape the comedy?

By keeping the pocket tight and leaving space for punch lines. Brass stabs and snare figures work like rim-shots. The groove never stops to “explain” the joke - it dares the actors to keep up.

Does the movie use this number?

No. The 1985 film replaces it with a new Richie feature called “Surprise, Surprise,” leaving only a hint of the earlier montage material.

Are there notable re-recordings?

Yes - the 2006 Broadway revival cast recording captures a contemporary company tearing through it. Regional and touring productions have posted performance clips, but the most widely circulated modern audio is the 2006 studio cut.

Is there a clean “single” edit?

Not in the commercial sense. It lives as a cast-album cut. The hook is catchy enough to function as a standalone, but its dramatic power comes from the buildup of the full “Montage.”

What is the message in one line?

Bravado is a coping mechanism - and the future shows up before you feel ready.

Where does humor shade into sting?

In the “Shit, Richie” chant, which reads as both roast and hug. The company’s teasing underlines community - you are not alone in your dread.

Awards and Chart Positions

Album-level context. The 1975 original cast album - which contains this track - registered on the main U.S. album chart and later became a perennially reissued title. It was also part of the show’s award halo in the mid-70s.

How to Sing “Montage: Gimme the Ball”

Think “tenor-centric patter with athletic breath control.” The tessitura often sits mid-to-high for a male voice, and the comedic delivery wants crisp diction more than belted vowels. On modern recordings, the track moves fast - roughly mid-140s BPM - and often sits around E major, which flatters bright, forward tone. Your mileage will vary by production, but these benchmarks help you warm up the right way.

1. Tempo & pulse. Practice at 120 BPM, then 135, then full speed near the mid-140s. Use a metronome. Keep consonants on the beat - especially the “gimme” triplets - so you do not rush.
2. Diction drills. Isolate the chant lines on a single pitch. Over-articulate “gimme the ball” with a relaxed jaw - hard Gs can clench the tongue if you are tense.
3. Breath placement. Treat the hook like eight-bar sprints. Inhale low and quiet on rests, then release air on consonants first. If you run out of air, shorten the preceding phrase rather than squeeze the end.
4. Flow & phrasing. Alternate “sportscaster” bounce on the chants with legato through transition lines. It reads funnier when you contrast the two.
5. Accents & groove. Aim accents on snare backbeats - 2 and 4. Where brass hits land, pop the start of the word then relax the tail.
6. Ensemble hand-offs. In the overlapping shouts (“Shit, Richie”), choose a vowel shape with your section and lock the length. It should sound like one voice, not a pile-up.
7. Mic craft. For concert or cabaret, pull back a few inches on shouts and step in for narrative lines. On stage, aim lines slightly above the conductor to project without blasting your neighbors.
8. Common pitfalls. Tongue tension on hard “g,” swallowed vowels at speed, and rushing pickups. If you miss one cue, re-enter on the next chant - better a clean rejoin than a muddy overlap.

Additional Info

On record credits and lineage. The OBCR credits spotlight Columbia’s cast-album machine at full power: producer Goddard Lieberson at the helm, with associate producers and veteran engineers in the booth, and Broadway’s own Donald Pippin steering the music department. That pedigree helps explain why this album still feels vivid in headphones - you can hear the room, the breath, and the timing that a more “studio-ized” approach might have ironed out. Masterworks Broadway has written often about Lieberson’s attention to dramaturgy on records, and you sense that here.

Revival life. When the show returned to Broadway in 2006, the new cast album recut the “Montage” and kept “Gimme the Ball” taut and fizzy - proof that the joke-to-groove ratio still works. Multiple tours have posted performance clips that capture the number’s locker-room burst and ensemble swagger.

Adaptation detour. The 1985 film, facing the tall task of translating a stage collage to the screen, replaced this section with “Surprise, Surprise.” That change netted the movie an Oscar nomination for Best Original Song, but it also underlines how stage-specific the “Montage” architecture is. Sometimes the best film solution is to write a new cue rather than force the old one to fit.

Language versions. In recent years, approved Spanish-language productions have recorded the score, translating the “Montage” sections for new casts and audiences. The concept - dancers telling the truth about growing up - travels well.

Sources: Masterworks Broadway; Wikipedia; MusicBrainz; CastAlbums.org; Discogs; Concord Theatricals; The Oscars; Playbill; Apple Music; Talkin’ Broadway; IBDB.