Sam Greenwood on Curiosity, Study Habits, and Thinking for Yourself

Poker is a game of precision and personality. Few players balance those two sides better than Sam Greenwood, the Canadian high-stakes regular known for his sharp analysis and his refusal to take anything at face value. On a recent episode of the GTO LAB Podcast, hosted by Daniel Dvoress, Greenwood unpacked how curiosity—not discipline, not volume, not memory—is the real foundation of long-term improvement. The conversation covered his early days in the Toronto poker scene, the habits that keep him learning, the thinking behind his Punt of the Day Substack, and what it really means to “study” in the solver era.

Curiosity as the Competitive Edge

Greenwood frames curiosity as the trait that separates great players from merely competent ones. Poker is a game where everyone has access to the same software, but not everyone asks the same questions. For Greenwood, the players who advance are the ones who stay interested even when there’s no immediate reward.

He recalls that, early in his career, he’d spend hours replaying old hands—his own and others’—just to understand what might have been going on beneath the surface. There wasn’t a financial reason to do it. It was simply satisfying to know why a line made sense. That curiosity built a type of resilience: the ability to stay motivated through downswings and through the monotony of modern solver study.

“The biggest difference between someone great and someone good, might just be a couple of percentage points of ROI—but the mindset behind that difference is massive.”

In other words, curiosity compounds. Players who think for themselves make fewer lazy assumptions about population trends, opponent profiles, or what “the sim” says. They see edges that others ignore because they’ve trained themselves to ask better questions.

The Toronto Poker Boom

Much of Greenwood’s approach was shaped by the Toronto poker boom of the late 2000s and early 2010s. He grew up surrounded by a deep local network. He describes that era as a mix of competitiveness and community—everyone trying to one-up each other, but also sharing ideas in the same chat groups and home games.

The environment mattered. After Black Friday forced many American pros overseas, Canadian players had the freedom to keep grinding online. Toronto, with its tech-savvy and math-oriented culture, became an informal training hub. Greenwood points out that many players from smaller Canadian cities eventually relocated there, creating an ecosystem that encouraged study and experimentation.

That mix of cooperation and rivalry still defines Greenwood’s game. Even now, he credits his growth to constant conversations with peers who challenge his thinking rather than confirm it.

Balancing Life, Study, and the Urge to Play

One of the more personal parts of the podcast comes when Greenwood talks about parenthood and how it reshaped his relationship with poker. He jokes about misunderstanding what people meant when they said “you lose your weekends” after having a kid. The lesson wasn’t about different activities—it was about time disappearing altogether.

That shift forced him to be deliberate about study. Instead of endless online sessions, Greenwood turned to writing and reflection. The result was his Substack, Punt of the Day—a series of long-form analyses of memorable hands, both his own and others’. The blog became a creative outlet and a way to refine his thought process.

“I like that I can work on something for a day, finish it, and have something concrete to show for it, Poker doesn’t always give you that feeling.”

The Punt of the Day posts often revisit hands years after they happened. What stands out is his focus on “non-consequential” spots—hands that didn’t swing huge pots or win trophies but reveal something about how his mind has changed. It’s an exercise in curiosity: looking backward not for nostalgia but for understanding.

The Value of Studying Without Memorizing

When the conversation turns to solver work, Greenwood pushes back against common mistakes he sees from aspiring pros. Many treat solvers as authority rather than as tools. They look at output charts, memorize frequencies, and assume they’ve found “the answer.” In Greenwood’s view, that’s a misunderstanding of what the software is for.

He argues that solvers are laboratories, not textbooks. They’re meant to help players test ideas, not replace thinking. The danger of treating them as gospel is that you stop giving opponents enough credit. You start believing every spot has a fixed solution, when in reality poker is fluid—driven by human tendencies and imperfect information.

Greenwood mentions node locking as one example. Players often tweak an opponent’s strategy on the flop and forget that solvers will automatically adjust on later streets, correcting for that earlier change. Without awareness of that dynamic, it’s easy to misread results.

Dvoress summarizes the point neatly: understanding equilibrium is a prerequisite for meaningful exploitation. Greenwood agrees. You need a baseline of theory before you can know what to deviate from and why. Memorization creates fragile knowledge; understanding builds adaptability.

Building a Reliable C-Game

Another standout idea from the episode is Greenwood’s take on developing a strong C-game—the version of yourself that shows up when you’re tired, tilted, or distracted. In his view, the real payoff of consistent study isn’t an unbeatable A-game; it’s a C-game that’s still profitable.

“When you’ve studied well, you can wake up on the wrong side of the bed, play fine, and not blow up your stack.”

That stability comes from internalizing principles, not scripts. Greenwood contrasts himself with players who operate at maximum intensity every session—what he calls “churning at 120%.” They might play brilliantly when locked in, but their performance collapses when focus slips. His approach favors balance: do the work upfront so your baseline decisions are sound even when your brain isn’t at full power.

This philosophy connects directly back to curiosity. The more genuinely you understand why certain plays work, the less mental energy it takes to reproduce them. Studying with intent builds muscle memory rooted in reasoning, not rote learning.

Why Sam Greenwood Plays Less Online

Part of Greenwood’s current rhythm involves stepping back from online volume. Between travel, family, and writing, he values quality of thought over quantity of hands. That doesn’t mean he’s less competitive; it means he’s more selective. The constant feedback loop of writing about poker helps him stay engaged without burning out.

He compares a day spent playing tournaments to a day spent writing. One is uncertain and emotionally volatile; the other has a clear finish line. That tangible satisfaction keeps his curiosity alive and prevents the kind of mental fatigue that long-term grinders often face.

Substack as a Training Ground

Greenwood’s Punt of the Day Substack has also become an educational resource for readers. Each post starts with a hand history and leads into layers of strategic reasoning, game-flow interpretation, and psychological nuance. The analysis sections are paywalled, but the introductions remain free, giving a glimpse into his process.

Thinking for Yourself

The episode closes on a simple theme: think for yourself. Curiosity isn’t about questioning authority for its own sake; it’s about learning to navigate ambiguity. Poker, after all, is a game without certainty. Even perfect decisions lose sometimes. What separates pros who last is the ability to stay interested when there’s no clear answer.

Greenwood’s career spanning live and online success, deep study, and creative experimentation, shows what that mindset looks like in practice. He’s not chasing shortcuts or trends. He’s following the same principle that built the Toronto poker scene: curiosity first, results second.

For players looking to improve, his message is direct. Don’t memorize charts. Don’t wait for a coach or a solver to hand you truth. Engage with the game. Ask why. The best edge in poker isn’t hidden in software or training sites—it’s in the questions you’re willing to keep asking.