JUST RELAX!

DURING a case on obscenity, late Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart was challenged to describe pornography when he famously explained, “I know it when I see it.”

Same with good radio. We know it when we hear it.

Thus, the honeymoon’s over. More than a month in, WFAN’s new afternoon drive time show is not working; it needs help.

In fact, it too often feels like work to stick with it. The team of Chris Carlin, Maggie Gray and Bart Scott radiate a palpable awkwardness — group discomfort — with no change anticipated.

There is a sense that if intelligent sense — or even intelligent nonsense — is to be spoken, it’ll be lost to the obligation that one of the three must quickly seize the microphone to say something — anything — rather than allow a moment of casual, thoughtful reflection be confused with dead air.

The results are like forced hot air, the kind that leaves your lips chapped until remedied with a humidifier or a change of channels. The conversations become artificial, often indecipherable as all three struggle to be heard saying nothing particularly worth hearing.

Scott, the ex-Jet, seems lost to platitudes when not talking football. Otherwise, he seems to be hanging on, waiting for the ride to end or asking protracted questions that, by the time he’s finished, isn’t worth awaiting the answer.

Gray knows her stuff but too often rattles off names and numbers as if trying to prove she knows names and numbers. She’s often a fountain of flat, forced useless information.

Carlin, with the most radio experience, has to shoulder the load, often trying too hard to make self-effacing comedy that’s too transparent to be even marginally clever.

The ad-libs sound forced, the debates strained, aimless and not worth their time or ours. My advice? Glad they asked. 1) Relax. Good talk radio is more rocking chair than electric chair.

2) Stop with all the pre-program planning as it pertains to what they state at the top they plan to discuss. Just let it happen.

3) Change drivers every few exits. No two or three drivers drive alike, so mix it up.

4) Listen to tapes of the best unscripted radio teams in history. Bob and Ray, the Phillies’ tandem of Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn. Hear how it flowed — no frills, just relaxed, clever, entertaining radio regardless of the subject.

Bob Elliott and Ray Goulding had little in common off the air. They rarely socialized together. But when their shows hit the air, they succeeded with extemporaneous nonsense, swapping the roles of straight man while playing off each other with remarkable ease.

When Elliot noted it was Washington’s birthday, Goulding explained to that “George Washington was one of our first presidents.”

Kalas and Ashburn, perhaps because stuck with the Phillies, paid attention to the game but not so close that they took it or themselves seriously.

Before the first game of the 1986 season, Ashburn interviewed secondyear manager John Felske, who claimed that this year he’ll be more eager to back his players in their gripes with umpires.

Ashburn waited a moment, then said, “So who’s gonna manage after you’re thrown out?”

Stuff like that. There was no scripting, no forced gags, no elaborate plans, just the kind of good radio that flows from the relaxed yet alert.

Granted, it’s more difficult with three as opposed to two. To that end, WFAN tasked Carlin, Gray and Scott with an additionally difficult and unfair burden. But how much more speculative NFL, MLB and NBA gab can one endure?

And WFAN’s collection of dubious commercials — hair replacement ads, companies that will miraculously wipe out your tax debts, hollering car dealers — make “elsewhere” a logical option.

Have some fun. Make some fun. You don’t have to be funny to make funny.

Throw some changeups, a few screwballs, too.

Interview Mr. Met. Grab a young intern, sit him or her down, then demand that they recite from the WFAN Code of Clean Conduct — which they’ll be told they already should have committed to memory. Ask an assistant bullpen catcher if he’s bitter toward the No. 1 guy, if he ever hides his mitt.

Find Masahiro Tanaka’s interpreter and ask why he and Spanishspeaking Gary Sanchez cover their mouths during their frequent chats on the mound. Find a guy who “moves the chains” and demand to know his qualifications.

Have the U.S. Ambassador from Trinidad and Tobago explain the unfair advantage of having one Olympic team rather than two.

There’s hope. None of the three is unlikable. None seem megalomaniacal. None dishonest.

But first of all, and above all, relax.