BALTIMORE — It is noon on a Wednesday, and Jim Palmer walks from his home to a favorite spot in Little Italy, Da Mimmo, where he has been dining for decades. The restaurant is empty, which means that you can hear the chefs pounding the veal in the back. There will be many more customers later.

The first time Palmer came here, in 1984, it was also empty. He peeked in and backed away, but the owner impressed him. When she was younger and part of an Orioles fan club, she explained, she had always wanted his autograph. Palmer dutifully tried the restaurant, loved it, and when he learned it was struggling, he gave it a plug to a local columnist. Now here it is, all these years later, thriving.

So is Palmer, who strikes you, in his adopted hometown, as a bit like Rocky Balboa in “Creed,” the last movie in the “Rocky” series. That character carried himself, in Philadelphia, with the easy confidence of a neighborhood legend who had starred in the 1970s, never had to prove himself again, and never abandoned his roots. That is Palmer in Baltimore — minus the loneliness that shrouded Rocky.

Palmer, at 70, is anything but lonely. He is married with a stepson and two grown daughters, and still works road trips and home games in the Orioles’ broadcast booth. He is surrounded by baseball, and by fans who adore him.