SOUTH PORTLAND – Say you had five minutes alone with Bobby Valentine on Friday night. More than enough time to shake his hand and pop one question.

What would you have asked the new Red Sox manager?

Kevin Smith of Falmouth wanted to know how Valentine would handle the team’s veteran players. Will he show the same loyalty to a David Ortiz for instance, as former manager Terry Francona did when Big Papi struggled with his swing two years ago?

Will Valentine stand by Kevin Youkilis, to name another fan favorite, who must come back from injuries and regain his reputation as a run producer.

For Charlie Glew, a visitor from Boston, the subject would be John Lackey, the starting pitcher who has fallen far short of expectations in his two seasons with the Red Sox. Lackey is months away from pitching after his arm surgery. Would Valentine “jettison” Lackey if he had the chance? Please.

Mary Chick of Portland, at the Sea Dogs Hot Stove Dinner with her husband, Dave, said she was a “big fan” of Francona, who walked away from the Red Sox after last season. What differences did Valentine see between himself and Francona?

Moving around the very crowded ballroom at the Marriott at Sable Oaks, I heard good questions. Thoughtful questions that didn’t necessarily get answers because this event wasn’t meant to simulate sports talk radio and its sometimes mindless and anonymous vitriol. This format didn’t include a Q & A session.

Mike Antonellis, the voice of Sea Dogs radio broadcasts, set the tone halfway through his chat with Red Sox catcher Jarrod Saltalamacchia, the second of four guests. We’re not going to talk about last season, said Antonellis.

“Thank you,” said Saltalamacchia, his lanky frame sitting comfortably in his wing back chair, opposite Antonellis in his chair. A faux woodstove/fireplace completed a cozy scene.

It was effective. You don’t talk hardball at hot stove dinners. Friday night was strictly social, played for laughs. Such as when native son Charlie Furbush corrected Saltalamacchia, saying he struck him out twice when the Red Sox were in Detroit, facing the Tigers.

When it was Valentine’s turn to sit in the chair, he retold the story of that game in 1999 when he returned to the Mets dugout after being ejected, wearing sunglasses and a fake moustache.

Before Valentine got fully wound up, a man stood up in the center of the room, wearing fake glasses over a fake nose and bushy moustache. Valentine didn’t notice him at first but soon there were laughs all the way around.

Last September’s long slide out of the playoff picture and the fallout that followed seemed like old news.

The crowd of 300 to 400 fans here seemed much closer to spring training than the end of last season.

Without prompting, Valentine referenced the apparent disharmony in the Red Sox clubhouse. In Japan, he said, the person with the title of manager organizes travel, hands out meal money and takes care of similar duties.

The person who sets the lineups and makes decisions on game strategy and such is called the director. Or as Valentine phrased it, the conductor. He would get the Red Sox playing together.

Bill Burgess of Augusta has not missed one of these hot stove dinners since the Sea Dogs switched affiliations from the Florida Marlins to the Red Sox in 2003. He comes to talk baseball with fellow fans and to listen, knowing the nitty gritty of Red Sox lineups won’t happen until late in spring training.

Burgess had a question for Valentine if he got his five minutes. What’s the hurt feelings between the new manager and outfielder Carl Crawford, who slumped throughout 2011? “Maybe I should be asking Carl that question,” said Burgess, unaware that Crawford and Valentine had talked recently and smoothed over any misunderstandings.

In his former job as an ESPN analyst, Valentine had an opinion on Crawford’s performance that reportedly miffed the veteran. Can’t have that, said Burgess.

Terry Young of Portland, Charlie Glew’s son-in-law, would have pressed Valentine on what areas of the team Valentine thought needed more attention. “I know he needs to evaluate his players before he can make changes.”

Dave Leach of Hallowell simply wanted to know who instilled the love of baseball in Valentine. Leach nodded to his 80-some-year-old father, Phillip. “I got my love of the game from him.”

Finally, there was Andrew Wood of South Portland, sitting at the table reserved for Furbush and his family and friends. Wood was Furbush’s catcher from Little League through high school and his two seasons at St. Joseph’s College.

“Seeing how Charlie has dominated Red Sox hitters the two times he’s faced them, I’d ask (Valentine) when he’s going to bring him to Boston.”

Staff Writer Steve Solloway can be contacted at 791-6412 or at:

ssolloway@pressherald.com

Twitter: SteveSolloway