But as she continues crying softly, her sobs racking and heartbreaking, I can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to her. Who fucking hurt her?
DEVEREAUX STORMS BACK AT OKLAHOMA, SIGNALS RETURN TO FORM
Sports News Network | Golf
Story by Colin Miles
Tulsa, OK— For the first time since his reign at the top, the conversation around Brookes Devereaux isn’t about what went wrong.
After opening the Oklahoma Secure State Invitational languishing near the bottom of the leaderboard, the former world number one mounted a stirring comeback that carried him all the way to second place on Saturday before ultimately finishing up third on the final day of the prestigious tournament. The result marks Devereaux’s best finish since his very public fall from greatness last year, and more recently, his terrible performance at Hilton Head. And, perhaps more importantly, it was a reminder of the golfer he used to be.
Devereaux looked all but finished after a shaky first-round performance on Thursday. On day two, his swing appeared tentative again, his putting unreliable, and longtime rival Jackson Taylor applied steady pressure throughout the first nine, leaving many to wonder whether he’d make the cut. But something shifted on Friday afternoon. Joined by his girlfriend, Poppy Crawford, a once-was cart girl from the golfing legend’shome course, Vista Palms, Devereaux clawed his way back with a gritty even-par round, followed by a brilliant Saturday surge that valued him from obscurity into serious contention.
By Sunday morning, Devereaux was suddenly a factor again.
Playing with a calm that has been absent for years, even long before the star took his infamous break and attended rehab for drug and alcohol dependency, he attacked pins, trusted his irons, and rolled in putts that once again drew roars from fans instead of groans. A string of birdies on the back nine briefly lifted him to a tie for second place, sending murmurs through the gallery and lighting up social media with a familiar refrain:Is the old Brookes back?
Though he cooled slightly down the stretch and finished third, the significance of the performance was unmistakable.
“This wasn’t a fluke,” said analyst and former AGL Tour winner Mark Ellison during the broadcast. “The tempo, the shot selection, the confidence under pressure—you’re seeing flashes of the old Brookes Devereaux. This is what people have been waiting for.Hopingfor.”
Fans seem to agree. Crowds followed Devereaux closely throughout the final round, cheering even routine pars as if they were victories in themselves. When he walked off the 18th green, he tipped his cap to a standing ovation—a moment that felt improbable just days earlier.
For Devereaux, the result doesn’t erase the past, but it may help to redefine the future.
“I know I’m not fully back yet,” he said afterward. “This week proved to me that I can still compete at this level. And that’s the reminder I needed.”
At Oklahoma, Brookes Devereaux didn’t just climb the leaderboard. He reclaimed a piece of his identity—and reminded the golfing world that his story is far from over.
CHAPTER 22
BROOKES
I’ve been home from Oklahoma for a couple of days, dealing with back-to-back interviews and meetings, rigorous swing practice, and a heavy focus on putting accuracy since it’s where I was showing a little too much inconsistency in Tulsa. My comeback is trending on social media, and suddenly, everyone wants a piece of me again. But I know how fast that script can flip, so I’ve been riding the wave tentatively, careful not to fuck up.
Things with Poppy have been… weird. After the night together in the suite, where she woke from her nightmare and then cried in my arms until she finally fell back asleep, the next morning it was as if nothing had happened, like I’d imagined the entire thing. She was right back to her happy, almost too cheerful self. And it got me thinking; is it all an act? Beneath her perma-happy, sunshine persona, is there a darkness that looms? Because I know all too well about fighting demons; maybe I could help her. But I also have trouble controlling my own emotions, so how the hell am I supposed to help Poppy control hers?
All I know is that night has been at the forefront of my mind, but I’ve been reluctant to ask her about it. Because the last thing Iwant is to upset her. But I swear to God, if I find out that bag of dicks ex-boyfriend is responsible, that he hurt her in any way, physically or emotionally, I might as well fly out to Dallas and personally hand my AGL tour card back to Donald Spielman, because I will not hesitate in murdering that scrawny little fucker.
“Here we are gentlemen.” Marilyn, one of the longer serving waitresses in the fairway café at Vista Palms arrives at the table I’m sharing with Jonesy on the patio where we often stop in for lunch after a morning round. “Two BLTs for our two favorite fellas.”
Rubbing his hands together, Jonesy looks from his sandwich to Marilyn and winks. “Love of my life.”
Marilyn puts a hand on her popped hip, offering a quirked brow. “You talking to me or the sandwich, Jonesy?”
“Always you, darlin’.” He winks again.
“Mm-hmm.” Marilyn turns to me with a knowing smile. “Can I get you anything else, Brookes hon?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” I shake my head and she winks, turning and walking back to her post behind the bar.
Before I can even unfold my napkin, Jonesy starts on me.
“So,” he begins, eyeing me from across the table. “I have a question.”
“Here we go,” I mutter, picking up one half of my BLT and taking a big bite.
“When’d you last have sex?”
