Today’s agenda: We’re answering one reader email that sent me down one of the dopiest rabbit holes of my career, then we’re making Week 9 picks. As always, these are actual emails from actual readers.

Q: Before the Blake Bortles draft, you said something on a podcast that hasn’t left my mind since: “When everything is on the line, would you really trust a guy with a name like BLAKE BORTLES?” Before the NBA draft, I was asking myself the same thing: “Can you really trust a guy named MARKELLE FULTZ?” What are some other great or bad sports names?

—Luca in Switzerland

BS: Are we sure that rule works with NBA stars? How do you explain Kristaps Porzingis, Dennis Rodman, Giannis Antetokounmpo or even Larry Bird? Talent trumps everything in basketball and baseball. Just ask George Springer and Clayton Kershaw, who could easily pass for two movie directors from the 1940s. In hockey, the more boring the better—names like “Wayne,” “Ray” and “Gordie” work perfectly. It’s not much different in the NFL, where Lawrence Taylor, Barry Sanders, Wes Welker, and Michael Strahan easily could have been the names of your accountant, dentist, contractor and used car salesman.

Good players can make any name work … unless they’re playing quarterback.

Sometimes, those names seem preordained. Witness the inordinate amount of talented QBs born with sports movie names like Drew Brees, Tom Brady, Cam Newton, Aaron Rodgers, Andrew Luck, Tony Romo, and Joe Montana. Even quality QBs with memorably complicated names found that, invariably, those complications added to their charm. Remember when we screwed up Brett Favre’s name for more than five years until Ben Stiller made fun of it in There’s Something About Mary? These days, it’s hard to imagine him being Brett Smith or Brett Ryan. Same for Ben Roethlisberger, whose name was quickly shortened to “Big Ben” or “Ben” once he started winning.

Blake Bortles doesn’t have that same luxury. Blake Bortles? If he tried acting, his agent would immediately push for a name change to Blake Diamond or Blake Cooper. If your friend started dating someone named Blake Bortles, you’d immediately ask her, “Wait, his name is Blake Bortles???” He sounds like a fast-food chain or a new Ben & Jerry’s ice cream flavor or the world’s most successful birthday party clown. He doesn’t sound like a quarterback, even if he totally looks like one.

Thursday night, I asked a bunch of Ringer staffers on Slack the following question: “If Blake Bortles wasn’t named Blake Bortles, but something more sports movie-ish, like Joe Steele, do you think his career would be better or exactly the same?”

Kevin Clark said that “if his name were Blake Bennett or Blake Cooper, he would have gotten a mega-extension by now,” adding that Derek Carr would be “getting killed right now if his name was Derek Schoop.” Clark mulled it over some more, eventually deciding there was a Gladwellian thing going on where “guys with great names like Joe Montana or Steve Young get to be the QBs on their Pop Warner teams.” Within 10 minutes, Clark was ready to murder me and steal this column idea.

Meanwhile, Rodger Sherman posted a paragraph from his Sept. 7 piece in which he called Bortles the wrong name over and over again (Brook Booples, Brick Bipples, Bork Bootums). Matt James pointed out that “Bortles sounds like Chortles—this is the root of the problem.” Danny Heifetz defended him (a little) but pointed out that Blake was sacked 106 times in his first two NFL seasons, and that his offensive line would have gotten more blame if his name was “Jeremiah Legend.” Paolo Uggetti thought Blake’s name sounded like the sound a 1-year-old baby would make.

The always wise David Shoemaker wondered why, if names mattered this much, wasn’t Colt McCoy the best quarterback ever? Only Zach Schwartz believed it didn’t make a difference, posting this picture and adding, “Blake Smith with this face still doesn’t inspire much confidence.” Fair enough.

Bortles plays the most complicated position in professional sports. As I’ve written a million times, your ultimate success comes down to 75-80 percent intangibles/leadership/charisma/personality/brains/work ethic and 20-25 percent talent. Your teammates and coaches have to believe in you. Your opponents have to fear you. You’re the drill sergeant. You’re the CEO. You’re like President Trump and everyone else is—wait, bad example. But you’re in charge. It’s your team, your show, your everything. Year to year, we can barely find 12 good quarterbacks, and of those 12, we can barely keep one-third of them healthy.

Could a clumsy name like “Blake Bortles” undermine someone already on the bubble, especially when he’s playing poorly? I joked years ago about not trusting Blake Bortles without knowing anything about him. Are there more of me? Are we ruining him? Has this been going on for much of his life? Is there actual science behind it? If so, how would that work?

Five years ago, a group of researchers studied the name-pronunciation effect, trying to determine whether people with easy-to-pronounce names were treated more favorably than people with harder-to-pronounce names. The answer? Yes! As Psychology Today explained it, “Observed effects seem to be attributable to pronunciation—when a name rolls off the tongue, at an implicit level we associate more positive sentiment with it. It’s a finding consistent with previous research showing that the ease, or fluency, with which we perceive something changes our impressions of it.”

One year later, in a New Yorker piece about the power of names, Adam Alter wrote that “Words also differ according to how easy they are to pronounce. People generally prefer not to think more than necessary, and they tend to prefer objects, people, products, and words that are simple to pronounce and understand.” You know, like Tom Brady and Cam Newton.

Alter and colleague Daniel Oppenheimer studied the performance of hundreds of stocks from 1990 through 2004 and found the ones with simpler names were the ones that performed better. The same went for politicians (“people prefer politicians with simpler names”) and lawyers in American firms (“fluent names rise up the legal hierarchy to partnership more quickly”). Shit, even wrestling works this way. There’s a reason Terry Bollea wrestled as “Hulk Hogan,” and Richard Fliehr became “Ric Flair.”

When Bortles finished 22-5 during his last two college seasons and entered the 2014 draft, one evaluator wrote, “At 6-foot-5 and 230-plus pounds, the Central Florida quarterback is typical of what the NFL has come to expect of its franchise passers. Bortles is also athletic enough to make defenses pay with his legs. He's everything the NFL loves in a quarterback.” Another evaluator worried about “his mechanical problems, both with his delivery and footwork, [which] are alarming because they seem to consistently break down when he’s under the most pressure.”

All the tools … can’t put it together? Sounds like a confidence issue, right? And it’s been borne out by Bortles’s tenure in Jacksonville, where he’s become infamous for committing dumb turnovers at crucial times, then thriving in blowouts like Garbage Time Kurt Warner. The 2017 Jaguars neutered Bortles to retool around Leonard Fournette and a potentially superb defense, recasting their QB as “The Vice President of Handoffs” or “The Executive Director of Exceedingly Safe Play-Action Passes.” It’s hard to imagine them bringing Bortles back next year, barring a postseason miracle or Bortles changing his name to Hulk Bortles or Blake Hugecock.

Last decade, a slew of studies about nominative determinism (I know, fancy!) culminated in 2002 with the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology publishing “Why Susie Sells Seashells by the Seashore: Implicit Egotism and Major Life Decisions.” The thesis: People tend to gravitate to jobs that fit their names, with the most dramatic examples being Igor Judge (a former Lord Chief Justice in England), Sue Yoo (a lawyer in the U.S.), Rich Ricci (a former Barclay’s exec) and weatherman Storm Field. (You can belatedly add Usain Bolt to that group, too.)

They never tackled quarterback names. Nobody has. (I looked.) But think about the sports movie names for quarterbacks over the years. Like this one.

The one, the only … Lance Harbor. Phenomenal. They don’t mess around with QB names in sports movies. Paul “Wrecking” Crewe. Joe Kane. Cap Rooney. Willie Beamen. Even in Point Break, Keanu Reeves’s ex-QB-turned-FBI agent was named Johnny Utah. Would you rather have Blake Bortles or Johnny Utah?

Of course, when Keanu played a disgraced QB in The Replacements, they gave that character a much less flattering name to fit the story: Shane “Footsteps” Falco. It wasn’t an accident. And that’s why pain heals, chicks dig scars, and glory lasts forever.

One positive for Bortles: One study cited in this Science Focus piece showed that alphabetical discrimination might have a bigger impact than we realize. If your name starts with “A” or “B,” you’re called before the other kids in school and thrown at the top of any alphabetical list, leading one researcher of a study of 15,000 people to conclude, “We saw that the further down the alphabet your surname came, the less likely you were to be successful.” This sounds crazy, but if it’s true, it would definitely help BLAKE BORTLES.

At some point, I realized my half-assed Googling was verging on Gladwellian territory, so I called the man himself, Malcolm Gladwell. He laughed for a good 30 seconds, then agreed that my Bortles theory might make sense because athletes never stumble into the quarterback position. Many elite athletes gravitate there by 11 or 12; if they remain there through high school and college, it’s often because of traits other than pure talent (charisma, leadership, smarts, etc.). They keep gaining confidence from everyone else’s confidence in them. It’s a social advantage.

In Outliers, Gladwell described the undeniable advantages of Canadian hockey players born in January and February, making them the oldest and most mature players in every youth hockey league. Thursday, Gladwell wondered about something just as basic.

“Is Bortles handsome?” he asked me.

Actually, yes. Why did he ask that? Gladwell believes that, in many cases, successful QBs were bred to play that role—maybe they were the handsome, overcompetitive homecoming king who seems like Young Tom Brady, or the sleepy kid with the cannon arm, or the freak athlete who can do everything, or the overachiever with the pulsating chip on his shoulder. Your goofy name wouldn’t matter as much if you checked a bigger box. Growing up in Florida, at some point, Bortles checked that “handsome, towering, gifted athlete” box.

Gladwell believes that young athletes can gain confidence because of something as simple as, “They’re six months older than everyone else on their hockey team” or “They’re the attractive three-sport sophomore star dating a smoking-hot senior and being envied by everyone around them.” That could also mean you’re being set up to fail if everything comes easy to you, especially if you never had to work quite as hard because everyone was already blown away by your potential. Brees, Brady, Russell Wilson and Deshaun Watson famously had to keep proving everyone wrong. Bortles had to keep proving people … right?

Players who are seen as nearly perfect may be more likely to fail because some element is missing—work ethic, mechanics, confidence, brains, self-discipline, coachability, something—than to succeed by overcoming that and putting everything together. And any criticism of Bortles these past two years mirrors everyone’s concerns before the draft. In October 2016, Bucky Brooks wrote that, “He is not playing well from the pocket and his shoddy footwork/fundamentals have been an issue since he stepped into the league.” This August, my old Grantland teammate Bill Barnwell wrote that “The guy who looked like a dream NFL quarterback seemingly turned into Byung-Hyun Kim with the ball in his hands.” In October, Kevin Clark wrote a Ringer piece titled, “How to Win Without a Quarterback.” It was inspired by Bortles.

In September, I became charmed by a Twitter account called @bortlesfacts that posted impossible-to-refute (drippingly sarcastic) Bortles facts. Tweets like “Blake Bortles and Tom Brady have combined for 5 Super Bowl Titles, 4 Super Bowl MVP Awards, 12 Pro Bowls, and 2 NFL MVP Awards” now reach over 33,000 followers. Thursday, I asked the anonymous dude running that account whether he would have started it if Bortles had a normal name. You know, something like Joe Steele. His answer?

“Nope … just couldn’t believe the Jaguars drafted two of the worst first-round QBs within three years of each other. (Blaine Gabbert is still worse.) The account was just dumb stuff my friend and I would say when Blake sucked every week to make the Jaguars games not suck so bad. Thanks, Gus Bradley. It’s a funny name for sure, but still would have done it otherwise. Only took off because he’s so awful and disappointing.”

The lesson, as always: There’s no greater curse than the curse of unlimited potential. That’s probably what happened to Blake Bortles. Probably.

And yet … I can’t shake his name. The Jaguars have a puncher’s chance of making the Super Bowl by following the 2000 Ravens recipe—running game, defense, special teams—and hoping the best players on everyone else’s teams keep getting hurt. (Don’t rule this out.) Could you actually win the Super Bowl with someone named Blake Bortles?

Only 31 quarterbacks have won the Lombardi: Bart Starr, Joe Namath, Len Dawson, Johnny Unitas, Roger Staubach, Bob Griese, Terry Bradshaw, Ken Stabler, Jim Plunkett, Joe Montana, Joe Theismann, Jim McMahon, Phil Simms, Doug Williams, Jeff Hostetler, Mark Rypien, Troy Aikman, Steve Young, Brett Favre, John Elway, Kurt Warner, Trent Dilfer, Tom Brady, Brad Johnson, Ben Roethlisberger, Peyton Manning, Eli Manning, Drew Brees, Aaron Rodgers, Joe Flacco, Russell Wilson.

Twenty-two of those guys had first names that were either three or four letters long. Only Johnny Unitas, Russell Wilson and Peyton Manning had first names as long as six letters. An astonishing 19 guys had a first name with one syllable and a last name with either one or two syllables. (More Blake Bortles momentum!) And Johnny Unitas was the only Billy/Johnny/Joey/Bobby/Ricky/Richie/Donnie-type “y”/“ie” name on the list.

Let’s learn from those 31 Lombardi names as well as our experiences with less trustworthy quarterbacks. Let’s ignore the fact Tom Savage has the greatest name of any 2017 quarterback, only you wouldn’t want him holding anything more than a clipboard. Let’s try some good, old-fashioned QB name profiling.

Based on 51 seasons and counting, here are 15 name-related tips that, barring a miracle, should tell you that you won’t be the starting QB of a Super Bowl champion.

1. Your first name can’t be anything that rhymes with “snake.” (Jake Delhomme, Jake Locker, Jake Plummer, Blake Bortles.) You know who can’t be trusted? Snakes.

2. Your first name can’t be Vince, Vinny or Neil, and your name definitely can’t be Vince Neil. (Vince Young, Vinny Testaverde, Vince Ferragamo, Neil Lomax, Neil O’Donnell.) By the way, Neil Lomax is probably the worst QB name other than Blake Bortles, and he made two Pro Bowls, finished as the most underrated QB of the 1980s and earned the best/worst nickname of the 1980s … (wait for it) … “The Grand Cannon.” There’s hope for Blake. Just a little. Wait, you want to see the Grand Cannon poster? Fine.

3. Even if eight Super Bowl QBs had a first name starting with “J,” your name can’t actually be “Jay.” (Jay Cutler, Jay Fiedler, Jay Schroeder.)

4. Your name can’t be Art, Bert, Bernie, Rex, Sage, Brock, Rusty, Oliver, Norm, Hugh, Elvis or Giovanni. (Art Schlichter, Bert Jones, Rex Grossman, Sage Rosenfels, Brock Huard, Rusty Hilger, Oliver Luck, Norm Van Brocklin, Hugh Millen, Elvis Grbac, Giovanni Carmazzi.) Did the Niners once draft Carmazzi over Tom Brady? Of course they did!

5. You can’t have a nickname as your first name. (Boomer Esiason, Babe Parilli, Bubby Brister.) Although I don’t know if Super Bowl XXIII goes differently with Norman Esiason running the Bengals, either.

6. You can’t sound like someone the Jets would pick (Blaine Gabbert, Jim Druckenmiller, Charlie Whitehurst, Guy Benjamin, Tarvaris Jackson, Gifford Nielsen, Norris Weese), or be someone the Jets picked. (Stoney Case, Bryce Petty, Browning Nagle, Geno Smith, Kellen Clemens.)

7. Your name doesn’t matter if you were drafted by the Browns or the Zombie Browns. Here, look. You’ve been automatically disqualified from the Super Bowl.

8. You can’t have three names. (Billy Joe Tolliver, Billy Joe Hobert, Peter Tom Willis, John David Booty.) You know who else has three names? Serial killers.

9. You can’t get away with a “y” or “ie” ending your first name because Johnny Unitas and Johnny Utah were so damn cool, they ruined it for everyone else. That means no Richies, Dannys, Billys, Jimmys, Joeys, Tommys or Bobbys, and definitely no more Johnnys. (I wish someone had told the Browns before they drafted Johnny Manziel.) It’s no coincidence that Tom Brady’s family calls him “Tommy,” but he was savvy enough to go by “Tom Brady” professionally. That’s why Tom Brady is the fucking GOAT. He thinks of everything.

10. Your name can’t sound like a porn name, a euphemism for a boner, or both. (Charlie Batch, Matt Schaub, Marc Bulger, Dick Shiner.) Have you met Dick Shiner? Please, I want you to meet Dick Shiner.

11. You can’t have initials as your first name. Much like Unitas ruined the “y” and “ie” guys, Y.A. Tittle ruined any future initials guy. (A.J. Feeley, A.J. McCarron, E.J. Manuel, C.J. Beathard, J.P. Losman.) We’ve never had a B.J., and by the way, thank God.

12. Your name can’t be Gary, Garrett, Gene, Geno, Greg or Gus. (Gary Hogeboom, Gary Kubiak, Geno Smith, Greg Cook, Greg Landry, Gus Frerotte.) All G’s are out. Sorry to all the G’s. You’re all still G’s.

13. Your name can’t sound like a lead character in a Noah Baumbach indie or one of those weird Coen brothers movies that George Clooney directs badly. (Blake Bortles, Stan Humphries, Bernie Kosar, Steve Bartkowski, Eric Hipple, Dan Orlovsky, Don Majkowski.)

14. Your name can’t be Jeff George. (Jeff George.)

My 15th rule used to be, “You can’t have a full name that could easily double as the name of a supermodel, actress, morning-talk-show sidekick or soccer mom.” Examples included Kerry Collins, Chris Chandler, Lynn Dickey, Daryle Lamonica, Kelly Stouffer, Kordell Stewart, Fran Tarkenton and maybe even Blake Bortles. But when Peyton Manning won his first Super Bowl, that ruined the rule. There’s hope for Bortles. Kind of. (Not really.)

Here’s the real hope for Bortles: Brett Favre and Ben Roethlisberger won three Super Bowls between them. And once upon a time, they didn’t sound like star quarterbacks, either. Arizona even thought about trading up for Bortles in 2014, with GM Steve Keim explaining after, “We liked Blake Bortles a lot … his size, his athleticism, his ability to improvise. He doesn't have quite the arm strength that Ben Roethlisberger had but he has some of the same skill set.” He failed to add, “And he’s got a really weird name, too—and look how Roethlisberger turned out!”

Either way, we’ll never know how much Blake Bortles’s name is holding him back. The good news? At least we always knew with Dick Shiner.

As for my Week 9 picks, it’s definitely a Michael Conrad memorial “Let’s Be Careful Out There” week. The Saints (-6.5 at home) are dying for you to throw them in a tease against Tampa Bay’s putrid defense, but they’re long overdue for one of those WTF???? Games. The Jaguars (-5.5 at home) might sack Andy Dalton 12 times on Sunday, but if there’s ever a weekend for Blake Bortles to screw us over, it’s the weekend when I wrote the dumbest Blake Bortles column ever. (STAY AWAY.) That Chiefs-Cowboys line (-2) looks like a trap considering Kansas City is twice as good as Dallas. Two more traps: the Rams (-3.5) in New York and the Panthers (+1.5) at home against Atlanta.

Meanwhile, we have The Heist (Brock Osweiler) playing on the road in Philly and begging us to tease the Eagles with anyone and everyone, even though it’s a backs-against-the-wall game for the Broncos. And the producers of Geostorm and The Day the 2017 Browns Were Favored in Indy are releasing their new disaster movie on Sunday, The Day Drew Stanton Was Favored in San Francisco.

I like only one game: The Seahawks (-7 at home) beating the injury-ravaged Washington Deadskins. I thought about teasing them with three different underdogs before ultimately deciding to ride everything on the Seahawks money line. All they have to do is win. Time to get my 2017 figure in the black. The pick …

$1360 to win $400 on SEATTLE (-340) over Washington.

Last week: 4-1, -$150

Season: 15-14, -395